Now I'm Always
by lonesomely
Summary: A car jacking a few minutes after midnight turns into an affair. rated M for a few reasons.
1. Chapter 1

Her lids parted when she realized the room had gotten so quiet, eyes momentarily drawn to the dim bulb in the corner of the room, illuminating the peeling wallpaper and the strewn pieces of paper that littered the dirty hardwood floor, the smell of something musty and metallic released into the air from the thin, stained mattress she had been dropped to. A window was to her right, a streetlight casting a small glow upon a brick building that must've neighbored this place, telephone wires in multiple drooping lines hanging down into her view against the smog and light polluted sky. She had no idea where she was, she had gotten detoured on her way to her apartment because of the panic throughout the city, bridges and overpasses shut down and traffic at a standstill everywhere. Having come across sea after sea of brake lights, honking horns and people abandoning their cars in the middle of the road to carry up with those on foot walking through the streets with backpacks and suitcases, she had decided to turn around and try to go the way she'd come.

This supposed detour around the rush of people downtown had lead her towards the docks and right into another pileup of people, the situation running through her thoughts as she looked in her rear view mirror and put the car in reverse, backing up a few feet and switching on her turn signal. She pulled in slowly to the parking complex on her left, the box where the attendant usually would have been empty and the barrier lifted into the air. Peering around, she saw through the brightly lit structure to the other side of the lot, the place as empty as the other streets of Gotham she'd had to navigate through. She felt a warm breath of air pass by her face, let in by the car windows she'd cracked down an inch or so to breathe relatively fresher air than that that had sat in her car throughout the hot summer day.

She glanced down to the clock in her car, the green dashes reading out to 12:06. She yawned, pressing her foot gently on the gas pedal as she drove through the parking complex, a little aggravated that cement barriers blocked her from making a u-turn in the middle of the lot and lead her to the empty side of the building she'd just gazed out to from the crowded street. Following the painted lines in the road that centered between them curving arrows that stretched out to the sides, she turned her wheel to the left, following the set pathway around one of the large cement structures in the building and followed the road straight, the lines extending for several feet in this seemingly massive parking lot before she could make another left turn and head out onto the street.

She never liked working these late hours much, but since she was available the most she supposed she didn't have much to complain about. She'd recently gotten a raise, working in a twenty-four hour pharmacy, and though the late night shifts weren't always the most accommodating there always seemed to be the most interesting people to work with. Besides, getting out at midnight was a treat – usually she worked until four or five in the morning.

As she approached the left turn that would take her through the parking lot again and out to the street, there were a series of speed bumps she had to go over. She shook her head at the idea of somebody having been speeding through a parking lot, pressing lightly on the brakes as she came to the first bump in the road. As she rolled onto the second bump, she heard the faint sounds of footsteps, the familiar patter coming together so fast that it had to be someone running. She shot her eyes to the rear view mirror as she felt the car roll over the bump, seeing nothing but the rows of lights that hung in the ceiling and the empty, oil stained spaces that lie in the lot. When the noise didn't stop and seemed to actually become louder, she glanced over her right shoulder, the car rolling over the last of the speed bumps slowly as the hair on her neck began to stand, and when the frame of a heavily clothed man suddenly blocked the view of her passenger window, she felt herself pull to the left, a small shock flashing through her legs as a gasp seized itself in her chest.

Gloved fingers curled around the glass, knuckles easing their way into the space between window and car. Slowly he lowered his head, the light behind him reflecting the dirty color of his hair, blonde and green and oil that had somehow seemed to mix seamlessly. Even in the shadows she could see the pale, caking makeup on his face, powder creasing on his forehead and the bright red that was smeared across his lips, the pink and purple deep indentations on the corners of his mouth and across his cheeks, old scars played up in bloody makeup under eyelids coated in black, small rivers streaked down in the corners of his eyes. Wet blood reflected the orbs of the garage lights above them, formed around two obviously fresh wounds, his irises pitch black against the white of his eyes, his face curling into a smile as his tongue slowly glided across the right corner of his mouth, tips of deeply yellow stained teeth peaking out from the red flesh of his lips.

"May I bother you for a lift, ma'am?" he asked, his lips coming together, voice scratchy and carrying a light tone, face leaning farther down into the window to see the frail frame of the girl who's hands gripped the wheel, blue veins raised against her skin as her mouth opened but voice froze.

It was then she recognized him. That voice. Those scars. You couldn't have turned on a television anywhere in the world without the news plastering his face on the screen in the past few days. Every officer in the city was trying to find him, the manhunt only growing larger every day. The videos they'd shown, the video of that man as he taunted him, his laughter above his screams… it'd sunk into the back of her skull, the fear gripping her somewhere deep, to the point where she had simply shut off the television and pulled the curtains in, sinking into the sofa as she thought, _what could make someone so…_

It was him, at her window.

His lids shut, a sigh coming from his chest as he reached one of his hands out through his pocket, a knife slamming against the window with his palm, the weight of the knife smashing through the thin glass of the passenger window, flopping into her passenger seat as his hand reached in and opened the door. A scream barely escaped her throat as he got in, his gloved hands quickly snatching the dropped knife and opening the blade, one gripping her neck and the other covering her mouth as he crunched against glass, the heat of her mouth burning her lips as she screamed into his palm. His eyes burned down upon her face, his glare so vicious it alone could have pinned her against the seat. His lips parted, his teeth remaining clenched together as she tried to shush her, leaning farther across the seat.

"Listen, sweetheart, I won't kill you if you just calm down," he said breathlessly, his gaze becoming less heated as his fingers loosened against her mouth, her jaw no longer held in his painful grasp. "I just need some help."

His eyes stayed upon hers, her mouth quivering as a single tear he hadn't seen welling up suddenly spilled from her left eye, its warmth colliding with and spilling onto the curve of his gloved hand. He broke eye contact, giving her a second or three to collect herself. When those seconds had passed and she remained still within his grasp, and more surprisingly he felt as her nod her head, he slowly released his fingers from her mouth, his eyes staying pinned to her as he slid his hand over hers, shifting the car into park. With his other hand still pressing the knife against her throat, he reached to his side and slammed the door shut, the knife at her throat now scraping harder into her skin.

"I need to get out of here now, and I mean," his lips pulling back against his teeth as another smile formed, "_now_."

His eyes scanned over her face, over her irises that dashed back and forth across his, watching the way she took a meticulously long look at him.

Her breaths came in pants, panic starting to stiffen her limbs and shaking her breath. She knew who he was, this man who had blown up building after building and murdered countless city officials in a handful of days. She'd been at the public funeral he'd been rumored to start the riot at. The stories had been piling up with every passing day, the accounts of devastation and despair caused by one man in a painted face and purple suit. The images of his face on television, in other newspapers, everywhere she'd gone, they all synced up to the man that sat in her passenger seat, his eyes burning directly into hers, the notches in his lips and cheeks pulling eloquently into the smile again as his gloved fingers slipped off of her hand and back across her cheek.

They came face to face, his nose grazing against hers as she reflexively squeezed her lids shut, her tears soaking into the thick lashes of her lids. His thumb brushed a tear from the corner of her eye, her eyes opening again so he could set his on hers, the dark brown almost seeming a cherry red as he peered gently into hazel, the yellow of her wavy hair illuminated in the lights above the car. He blinked and opened his mouth slowly, the tip of his tongue licking his lip before he spoke.

"Can you?" he asked, his voice low, wavering with his unsteady breath, his arms shaking as he kept them extended. His voice held no anger, the small expressions etched in the corners of his mouth and the lines of his forehead almost hinting he regretted holding the blade to her throat.

She stared forward, looking into his dark eyes. The shadows and speckles of paint across his lids were mixing with the sweat beading on his brow, the scars on his cheeks so deep she could practically see how his flesh had hung open, the look in his eyes like he knew she was looking at those scars and was becoming ever more angry again. He pressed the blade deeper.

"Will you?" he asked once more.

She weakly nodded, her lips pressed shut, terrified to take even the smallest breath.

"Good. I need to go to somewhere I can lie low." His eyes drifted across the windshield, making sure the lot the two sat in still remained empty before returning to his stare.

His hand slid down from her cheek and curled behind her neck, his thumb brushing the small nub of flesh above her earlobe. "I have a place in mind. Will you drive?" he asked, her head still nodding as his hand pulled back from her face, forming into a fist that he rest at his side. The blade in his left hand lay still dangerously pressed against the skin of her neck.

His breathing steadied, falling in rhythm, his eyes still scanning the features of her face, the fear he knew paralyzed her so obviously shown in her eyes. This was more than just some random mugging, some carjacking in a shitty neighborhood at midnight… she clearly knew him this time.

Well, what with those videos and phone calls nearly running constantly on every television network, who didn't know his description by now? Another smile curled his lips, the sheer amazement of how the fuck he'd managed to survive another night – much more _this_ night – finally getting to him. He nearly forgot about the flesh he still held to a sharp object, the way her body still shook. Yes, she knew exactly who he was.

He couldn't help himself from asking. "You've obviously seen me before."

She wanted to shake her head no, she wanted to just take her wallet and give him the car, fuck the wallet he could have it too she just wanted to get out, run, do anything to get out from under the pressure of his body leaning into her. Not wanting to lie, not wanting to think he couldn't trust her if he let her go, she nodded her head again.

His hand slid down from her cheek and curled behind her neck, his thumb running across the small nub of flesh that extended above her earlobe. "I have a place in mind. Will you drive?" he asked.

She nodded. "Okay," he muttered, eyes finally breaking from hers, the blade coming away from her throat and folding shut, irises accordingly following the hand that loosely held the knife as it came down on hers, the weight of his hand pressing forward the stick shift, putting the car back into drive.

"Go," he said, sliding the closed blade into his coat pocket as his vision returned to peer beyond the windshield, a brief glance over his shoulder confirming those officers in the next building hadn't caught on to where he'd run.

She pressed her foot down on the gas pedal, slowly reaffirming her grip on the steering wheel. She felt her chest heave slowly, doing all she could to not panic as her thoughts barely inched upon the world of scenarios she faced. He could kill her, he could rape her, he could blow them both up in this car with the push of a button, he could leave her with someone else that would do all of the above. He'd proved his ability many times over. He was fucking _insane_, but more than just that – he was calculated, concentrated, painfully focused.

_Don't, not now, not now_, she thought. She couldn't think about it now. Her heart was beating too loudly against her chest, afraid at any second he'd hear it and have the knife at her throat again.

Navigating dirty streets for miles into a pack of condensed, shoddy apartments above multiple stores, he told her to park behind a row of equally broken down and damaged vehicles, the road lined with streetlights that flickered or burnt out long ago. He'd forced her out of her car, grabbing the keys and holding her close to his body with the blade again to her throat, practically having to break bones to make her shaking legs walk. He pulled her up the small row of stairs outside the building and past a heavy wooden door, down a hallway littered with garbage and cigarette butts like dirty leaves and up so many flights of stairs, the knife now pressed against her stomach, the terror that had overcome her body curling herself around his arm, eyes squeezed shut and lips trembling as he said nothing, his footsteps quiet and in rhythm. When her back would graze against the cold, metal handrail to their side, her eyes would involuntarily snap open, lashes brushing against the coarse material of his dark jacket. She could feel the dampness in his clothing, the sweat from his skin, his cold breaths as he walked up the stairs, the sound of her keys and his knife clanking together in his pocket.

The ascent finally stopped, and she could feel the tips of her shoes being dragged across the floor. Her eyes opened, briefly seeing the poorly lit and empty hallway the two were in, the wood floor beneath scratched and dirty, splinters waiting on every surface she saw. She heard his heavy breaths as he stopped, a hand releasing from her body to dig into his pocket, fingers emerging with a small gold key he used to unlock the chipped metal door handle. The door cracked open, his hand again latching onto the fabric of her clothing, pushing her into the darkness of the room.

The door behind them shut, the light from the hallway slammed out of the room as he released her from his grip, her hands shooting beneath her to break her fall against the thin mattress she couldn't see she was dropped to. She heard the sound of a switch being flipped, and within a few seconds a dim yellow light began to flicker in the room. By the time the light had stabilized and barely illuminated the corner of the room, she could see him standing above her, his fingers twisting the multiple locks on the door. She gazed out into the visible corner of the room, the sight of peeling wallpaper phasing down to strewn pieces of paper across the hardwood floor, the window to her right still only showing the brick building and the small strip of sky above it, a smell emanating from the mattress as she pulled her legs closer to her body, brows furrowing as the scent filled her nose. It was musty, almost metallic…

Her eyes peered down to the diamond stitched figures across the mattress, the sight of slits accompanied by multiple continuously darkening stains screaming only one thing to her. The feeling of her heart pounding against her chest had started to reach her throat, her breaths coming ragged again. The sound of another lock being switched caught her attention, her eyes turning upwards and scaling the shape of his bent body as he lovingly looked down on her, whites of the eyes still bright even through the darkness, his knees slowly bending beneath him as he brought himself down to the floor and leaned onto the mattress.

"Thank you, that was _quite_ helpful," he murmured, his legs digging into the mattress as his arms returned to his sides, his shoulders shrugging his coat off onto his arms, using one to gather the coat with and then throw off into the shadows of the room, the knife and keys banging loudly against the ground upon impact.

The buttoned up t-shirt he wore had the shapes of hexagons on it, the green vest over it snuggly fitted around his torso, his dark tie still done perfectly, his appearance tidy down to the fastened buttons that rested on the insides of his wrist. He positioned himself in front of her, his shoes squeaking slightly as they slid against the wood, his gloved thumb suddenly curled around the inside of her elbow and fingers against the rough skin of the outer side as she again closed her eyes, so afraid and so uncertain if she would ever leave this room alive. She couldn't help but notice, as he leaned closer to her, that his breathing had calmed.

"Look at me," he said, his voice quiet.

She could do nothing but shake her head as cold crept up her spine again, squeezing the last bit of tears from her eyes.

He continued to look at her, his eyes following the ridge of her nose and the curve of her jaw. His lips pressed together, eyes squinting slightly as he continued the staring game he'd begun earlier, unsatisfied with the closed lids before him.

"Why not?" he asked, the tip of his tongue slow against the back of his teeth as he pronounced the "t."

She was terrified to say anything, fear only growing in the span of time that he remained quiet, certain he was about to deal the killing blow to her any second now. She heard a large exhale of air pass through past his nostrils, feeling his gloved hand leave hers and graze her neck, sending nothing but further chills over her.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said, voice slowing to a pause, her eyes opening in the wake of those words.

He met her gaze. "I seem to be realizing I don't believe I would've escaped had it not been for you." The tenseness easing in his face, his mouth pulled into the one of the more legitimate smiles he'd had in months, lips parting again. "Those brake lights could've made me believe in God, I wouldn't return the favor with something as low as strangling you."

Her mind raced. Brake lights. The brake lights from her car as she'd been going over the speed bumps. He must've been running from outside the building into the parking structure and seen the car. But running from what? What had he done _now_?

He felt the grin fading from his face. She was so scared her brain seemed to be running on some kind of basic survival mode, listening intensely to every word that came from his mouth. He didn't want that, not now, not as his body began to catch up to it's trauma, images and events sinking in, muscles aching through to the bone, bruises forming as the adrenaline drained from him. He was glad to be out, but that's all he could say for the moment. Just as he'd thought he'd plunge to his death, the unbelieving laughter that came from his chest a reflex, he was yanked back and hung upside down on a rope, only to be surrounded by SWAT members that watched as the metal claw that should have continued to held his body detach from an above pole. His body nearly paralleling the still in construction building he fell from, his arms flailing to his sides, the screech of fear that went through his veins plunging with him as he passed several stories. The waving rope above him swung to the left, the metal claw colliding with scaffolding, flipping over and wedging itself against the steel, catching the scaffolding that violently jerked down as he was caught.

As the rope held him dangling again, unsteady and already feeling as it was sliding again, his body suddenly swung to the left. Expecting to collide with glass, he felt as the rope untangled itself from the scaffolding, his body sailing through the empty space surrounded by wood frames before falling on his side against hard ground. His breath seized in his chest, the impact knocking the wind from him, his mouth gaping open as he rolled onto his stomach, nearly fucking crying as his face rest against the unfurnished wood beneath him.

That… that…how… how the fuck did he get here? He was just hanging more than twenty stories off the ground, and now? His eyes scaled the room, city lights shinning through the unfinished floor he lie in. Breath returning to him, he scrambled to his feet, rushing towards the poorly crafted stairwell built by construction workers for easy access, his feet pounding loudly as he rushed down, gloved hands clutching the wood railing as he legs nearly shook out from under him, his teeth clenched shut as he began to jump down multiple steps to reach the ground he saw beneath him faster. He didn't need to see the swarm of police nearby to know they were here, guns drawn and attack dogs ready for whenever he would appear. Heart racing and breath becoming more scarce, he reached the last flight of stairs, tearing off away from any hint of flashing lights into the direction of dark, secluded buildings. The florescent lights of a familiar parking garage rest a block or so away from him. The sound of sirens becoming louder, he picked up the pace, running as fast as he could move his feet, his injured limbs barely cooperating.

He turned the corner into the garage, and there those bright red lights were… silver car, woman driving it, brake lights illuminated as she drove over speed bumps. Seeing she was nearly through the set he began to ran harder, throwing his arms into rhythm with his legs, trying to push himself faster through the air.

He lightly shook his head, realizing he'd broken eye contact with the girl. _I thought you said not now_. There's time for realizing what the fuck just happened later. He'd just come face to face with the barrels of guns and the ground rushing up at him, and now less than a half hour later, he could feel the warmth of breath against his cheeks, wide brown eyes now staring back at him, soft skin, the body turned towards his... no, he wasn't going to waste this.

She said nothing as his hands lightly pressed to the cuts made to her neck. He slowly leaned farther into her, pressing her back against the wall, a knee sliding between hers before momentarily withdrawing his hands and pulling off the gloves he then tossed to his side. His dirty, cracked nails catching a brief shimmer of light, he again pressed them against the scratches, index finger resting against her pulse as his other hand placed itself flat on his stomach, bare skin gliding across her clothed hip before digits searched for a crease in fabric, fingers dipping beneath fabric. She felt as small bumps rose on her skin, ache settling into her muscle as she tried to turn from him but came into contact with the fabric of his pants.

The flesh of her thigh rubbed against his knee, the warmth of her skin even more appealing. She shuddered when she'd realized what she'd done, her eyes drawn down to their joined knees, taking the opportunity to inch closer to her.

Before she could raise her head she heard the sound of him licking his lips, his tongue running across the corners of his mouth again, he began to speak. Her eyes dashed back onto his, his hand still resting on her hip.

"You look nervous."

He looked down on her, bringing his face to hers, his nose grazing against her forehead before he rested his cheek upon it. He could see her small frame curled, legs bent in different directions from under her gray skirt, her bright, long hair against the thin black shirt she was wearing. Her brown eyes were overcome with fear, pale skin scratched and bruised from the way he had handled her, how he had pulled her up the stairs. She was cold, she was frightened, she was certain he would kill her at any second – he knew she feared that the most. He couldn't blame her; it wouldn't be the first time he'd done such an impromptu thing. Feeling the shifting bones of her body beneath his hands, he glanced down, the fabric of her skirt having shifted upwards towards her waist, his eyes drawn immediately to the stain of faint pink scars across her thighs.

She felt his lips curl into a smile against her forehead before he pulled away.

Pressing his tongue to his teeth, he licked his lips as he dragged his nails across her scars, his forehead now burrowing into her chest.

"When did you get these?" he asked, thumb trailing one that extended particularly far to her inner thigh.

"A long time ago," she whispered, her lips cracked and throat dry, skin stiff and terrified as she stared forward above the mess of his hair, trying not to remember.

He closed his eyes, the lightest friction from his lashes brushing against her skin. He drug his calloused fingertips back over her hip, the other hand still caressing her throat, the cold, rough skin against her making her shiver, her muscles tensing again as he pressed his lips against her clavicle, tongue grazing the thin flesh between skin and bone. He skimmed his nails across the skin above her hip, his hand moving out from the fabric of her skirt and now to that of under her shirt, fingers tracing the lines of her ribcage as they came into contact with the soft fabric of her cup, now pulling his head away from her chest.

On her shirt he could see the residue of powder and makeup from his face, a white blur on an otherwise black landscape. He grinned, his vision slowly climbing from the long hair that rest on her shoulders to her face, to the eyes that remained welled with tears as they barely could look upon his face.

"You…" he said quietly, his hand following the curve of her body.

He saw her lips begin to quiver, her body cringing as cold fingers dug into her warm skin.

He couldn't help but say it now; it'd been so long since he'd even made a half assed compliment. "You are fucking gorgeous."

She said nothing, her eyes shutting again, the small tinge of regret and anger that passed through him at her reaction to something he meant. He couldn't remember the last time it was like this, and she was trying to get away from him, her elbows touching the wall behind her, head pulled down, avoiding his advances… that alone would have been enough to gut her. Irises flittering between hers again, he tried to remember what had just possessed him to say such a stupid thing.

The last thing she wants to hear from you is how beautiful she think she is. What the fuck do you think she's got going through her head right now? She'd of called the cops if she could, his hands again cuffed behind him and brought to sit in the heckling group of other recently inducted inmates. He shook his head, disgust pooling in his stomach. She was no different from the last person he'd embedded a bullet in, and he sure as hell hadn't brought her here for show, but there was something off here. Maybe it was because she'd just saved his life, and he was about to destroy hers.

Maybe if I don't go so rough…

He brought his hands to her face again, cupping it gently, trying his hardest to not do the usual routine of just pinning the bitch down and having at it. She wasn't fighting him. She hadn't sworn, hit, kicked, tried to escape once – just a scream, involuntary flinches. Typical for someone just having been kidnapped, now with the hands of a known murderer dragging his fingers across her throat. She knew who he was, and she wasn't going to do anything but listen to him.

Good enough, it was more than anyone in the past handful of days had done.

Drawing her face closer to his, he grimaced as he saw her lids still painfully squeezed shut.

"Look at me," he said again, fingers around her neck starting to tense.

She couldn't, not even if she hadn't truly wanted to. She just couldn't pry her eyes open. She was scared of the tears she felt welled up behind them spilling out, her shaking jaw, her stiff limbs, everything that showed him clearly just how intimidated she was.

When she didn't comply with yet another request, the frustration in him boiled to anger, his hand seizing her neck and nearly flattening it to the wall. He could feel beneath his fingers the quivering muscle, air momentarily choked down into her throat as her mouth opened, the first cry since they'd met coming from her strained chords.

"LOOK AT ME," he roared, breath bouncing off her forehead, the horrifying sound of his voice so perfectly matching the one that she'd heard on the news.

Her eyes opened, tears indeed rolling down her cheek as she looked forward, meeting the glare that bore down on her. She didn't know what to do, what to say besides the sudden "I'm sorry…" that passed her lips, her eyes purposely fixed on his, making a point of not breaking contact again.

If he gets what he wants he'll let you go. He said he wouldn't kill you… if he really wanted to, why would he drag it out this long? And why kill her? She'd never met him before, she had never wronged him. She didn't have one clue he existed until his repeat offenses showed up in the papers. She wasn't even from this fucking city…

Sorry? "For what?" he asked. He wanted to hear her say it, say something, say anything, _any_ noise but the whimpers that came from her.

Her gaze held steady. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry I didn't listen…" she spoke, the vibration of her vocal chords feeling so good against his palm.

"You have so far," he murmured, a corner of his mouth curling into a grin, eyes still set upon hers as he released his fingers.

The warmth in the pit of his stomach grew as he felt her thigh grazing against his, her knee turning in a sharp angle and digging into his skin, an obvious attempt to put distance between them proving futile as he couldn't have held her more pinned to that wall even if he'd used the multiple knives in his pockets. He briefly looked down again before pursuing his intentions, the deep scars on her legs still screaming at him as he pressed his lips to hers.

The relief of his hands off her neck had dissipated into the urge to squirm and scream again as he kissed her, merely applying pressure to her mouth. She lowered her head, the sudden motion separating the two as her lips parted to take in a small gasp, the action met with the gentle capture of soft flesh between his. Her lids involuntarily fluttered shut. She felt hands gently resting on her shoulders, free of clawing or trying to restrain her, nothing but the weight of his palms. She could feel the deep, thick lines of scars, the little bit of sweat that hung to his upper lip now on hers as his angle deepened, his tongue sliding into her mouth, the intrusion sending another shiver through her body.

He's… so _warm_, she thought, the rest of the words spinning through her head forming choppy and incoherent. The dominating muscle massaged her tongue gently, breath heating her lips and teeth, the feeling of his hands sliding from her shoulders and down her arms to her elbows nonexistent as the assault continued, head tilting backwards as he lured over her. She accommodated his motions, only because she feared more what he would do if she didn't.

His chest came against hers, the warmth that crawled over his sincerely welcomed as the thought of the last time he'd gotten so close to someone without the pure goal of witnessing their last breath, much less some beautiful, frightened girl. It almost made him feel guilty knowing where this would end. He wondered if she would call the police, say he'd kidnapped and raped her before blindfolding her and dropping her at the edge of town, leaving her further scarred and carjacked. He'd done what he'd always done, abandon the victim far away and drive the car back relatively close to this building, leaving it unlocked with the keys in the ignition for whatever lucky thief found it first. He knew first hand who lurked in the dark around these blocks. Seemed a little cruel to do all that to this girl he hadn't so much had gotten back talk from, to fuck up the rest of her life for his few hours, but ah, no one ever said life was fair.

His hand dropped from the crook of her arm and to her knees, his fingers prying apart the leg that dug into his before creeping forward, nails again skimming across scars before tips felt the warm material of her underwear. He felt her tensing muscles as he dove into a deeper kiss, cold fingers engulfing in heat as she squirmed, another gasp muffled by his mouth. Slowly wiggling those digits, his chest still pressed against hers, he separated their lips so he could hear the pants from her throat, gasps becoming all that more vocal as he rested his head upon her shoulder and closed his eyes.

It had never been like this before, this close. Usually the girl fought and screamed, bit his lips, scratched and swore her revenge between cries of pain as he held her against the floor, barely any time to actually _enjoy_ the fucking event between holding her down and keeping her quiet. And every time it ended nearly the same… he clasped his hands over mouth, around her throat, choking out every last breath until the very color of her eyes faded out. They always fought, they always threatened, one broad going so far as trying to attack him with one of his own blades. That mistake - grinning at the new memory of the girl beneath him's wide eyes as she saw the slits and stains in his mattress - had been _very_ short lived.

Her breath was ragged, body trembling once more, small words beginning to fall from her mouth as his fingers continued forward. He brought his face against hers, smothering whatever pleas she tried to get out with his mouth, returning to the same deep kiss he'd broken away from. He released her elbow, his now free arm hooking around her back, bringing her closer against his body and away from the wall before he lowered them to the mattress, other hand retreating from beneath her skirt and cushioning her head. One of his legs still remained locked between hers, now prying open space for the other to join in spreading hers.

Her heart pounded so badly against her it was making her head ache, it nearly having jumped up her throat as he had moved his legs. He hadn't even acknowledged she'd spoken. There was no way out of this. Reality caving in all at once, she couldn't stomach it, she couldn't breathe, eyes held shut as she felt his fingertips twirled around her hair. She felt so helpless all she could do was not cry, not give him the satisfaction of her reaction. She wanted to scream stop, to please don't, she had cash and other valuables at her house… he'd know where she lived but she could move… this was her body, and already… already…

He tugged tightly on her bottom lip, releasing it and letting her catch the first breath of air she could ever remember taking at this point. Her lids opened, again meeting his gaze.

He chuckled a little before raising the hand he'd used to cradle her head to swipe away the lose strands of hair that had fallen over her face, again lowering it and running fingertips over her hip.

"Please tell me that was as good for you as it was for me," he whispered, wanting again to hear anything but a whimper from her.

Again, nothing. Frustration climbing again, he slid his hand into his pocket, flipping open a blade that cut into her throat, breaking the skin as she screamed. He closed his eyes, teeth all but grinding together, indenting the blade deeper.

"Say it, say it was," he growled, head shaking with the anger that tightly gripped him. When silence again greeted him, with no hesitation he slowly began to drag the blade, the girl screaming again. Grabbing a fistful of her hair and jerking it towards him, he roared into her face again, "SAY IT!"

"It was!" she screamed, cries stifled in her throat, blood welling from the sharp pain in her neck.

"Don't lie to me," he said through his clenched teeth, applying more pressure, intent on further dragging the blade. "Was it?"

"It was, it was," she replied, voice raw as she stared up, stinging pain coursing through her neck.

"How good…" he asked, her head falling backwards and away from the blade when he let go of her hair, free hand again wandering to her hips, fingers grasping the fabric beneath him and tugging it down, slowly pulling the skirt off of her body.

Tears poured out of her eyes, vision scrambling to the ceiling, desperately trying to see anything but his hovering face. She didn't care if he saw anymore how much she struggled under him; he was going to kill her. He was going to take his time with her alive before disposing of her body in whatever fashion he saw fit.

Again the knife returned to her throat, this time provoking no cry.

"I believe I asked you a question," he murmured.

She just wanted to live through this. "So good," she whispered.

A laugh rumbled through his throat, lips curling into a smile. "You mean it?"

"Every word," she said breathily, the blade in her skin agonizing and the wounds stinging so badly she couldn't breathe.

He nodded. "Mm, so, having enjoyed that so much, you think you're up for another round?"

His laughter beating her response, she felt her skirt being yanked away, an index finger wriggling under and hooking to her underwear before unevenly descending down her thighs and over her knees. The cotton sliding down might as well have been made of the same sharp material as the blade still at her neck; the feeling provoked a similar reaction. His mouth came to hers again, inciting the same struggle as before, tongue running across her lips before plunging deeper. Her lids slid shut, the cold air that breathed against her bare skin reminding her of where she was and who she was pinned under.

She felt his hands come to her chest, fingers unfastening the buttons of her shirt before he pushed it back towards her arms. If he couldn't hear her unsteady breaths, he sure as hell could _see_ them now. She was still panting, still terrified.

* * *

so! hopefully there's somebody who likes this enough to review. This is the farthest I've gotten with the story so far, just wondering if I should continue it? Let me know, I'll nonetheless be writing out at least two more chapters but I'd love any feedback, suggestions, stories you want me to check out, whatever you want to throw at me I have time haha. Also yeah, I do mean rated M for a reason - the story doesn't purely consist of this situation we're in right now, it will be further developing past this scene but in general, hey, you saw The Dark Knight, y'know how dark it got. thank you so much again for reading, if you stick around for the entire story I promise you'll like it.  
-p.


	2. Chapter 1, cont

He took another moment to read her face, the exact same fear holding her still as he pushed open her shirt, the pale color of her bra absorbing the shade of the yellow light cast in the room. She unexpectedly made eye contact with him again, another handful of words forming but falling deaf to his ears. Looking down at the skin he'd stripped her down to, he saw the dark fabric of his pants, the cuffs that stay buttoned to his wrists, reminding him of how fully clothed he remained.

He grinned. "Not so fair, is it?"

Her brows furrowed. "What?"

"Not so fair I'm still in all these clothes when I took my time peeling off yours. Easily fixed, though."

A hand began to fickle with the clasp of his buckle, unhooking it and letting it fall against her stomach, dread pooling in it as she swallowed a hard gulp. The sound of a zipper dragging downwards sent shivers through her, the feel of hands again on her body pulling a cry from her throat. Disbelief, horror, whatever this was, goddamn it what had she done to warrant this shit? The rough fabric pressed on her began to slink towards his feet, his bare skin now topping hers, his hand returning to it's place on her hip, gripping it as his knees again spread hers.

Her arms had curled up to her body, putting up no resistance to his demands, eyes again closed. He wanted her to look at him. There was something about the way she did. Whether it was panic or hatred or just, shit, he didn't know, he was just so goddamn into this. The times before he hadn't so much as bothered to remember the girl's face, but now he couldn't keep his eyes off of it, taking his time to feel her smooth skin. He could feel how she was firmly against him, how her breaths alone were moving his torso up and down, but he wanted more. He pressed his chest to hers again, suddenly aware of the shirt he wore that separated them.

Heh, good idea.

"Unbutton me," he said, hands gently curling around her wrists and pulling them to the first fastened button at his throat.

Her eyes opened as he felt his grip, unable to keep her hands from trembling as she followed his request, fingers slipping through the knot of the tie, unwravling it from around his neck before she began to pull at the buttons of his vest, the material slipping away and towards his back. Her fingers returned to his neck, slowly unbuttoning the shirt he wore until his bare skin show before her, the light fabric gathered with the rest around his sides.

There were so many bruises, scabs, otherwise deep red marks that stained his skin. It must've been from fight after fight, too many close encounters with an attacker nearly more powerful than he was. Her eyes focusing on the fingers still wrapped around her wrists, she could see the cuts and bruises across the rough skin of his hands, nails chipped, knuckles skinned.

_Why hasn't anyone just shot him yet? You'd shoot a rabid dog._

He couldn't deny how good it felt to feel her fingertips running down him, how soft the silk tie felt as her fingers unknotted it, the hair that began to stand up heightening the experience of it all. It'd been so long, so fucking long since it felt like this…

His eyes squeezed shut, taking in a deep breath from his nostrils, lips almost shaking. This was going to be good, he could already feel it.

Her hands still trailing down his torso, he leaned into her, his mouth pressing against hers, tongue persuading her lips to open, again angling deeper, something warm pulling in his veins as he felt her fists ball up in the fabric of his shirt, her exposed hips against his, his pants gathered at his feet. His mouth opened, a deep breath obliderated when she suddenly caught his bottom lip, her spark of passion again drawing him back, his hands releasing her wrists and eyes going wide.

His smothered words vibrated in her mouth, hands opening and clutching to his shoulders, pulling him closer to her, her body starting to grind just fucking eloquently against his. His nerves felt like he was full of static, he was almost a little hesitant, feeling as his face started to blush underneath the makeup. Reassigning his hands to cup her face, their kisses becoming more heated, he felt as one of her hands left his shoulder and began to crawl down towards his hip. His eyes closed in the moment, lips breaking momentarily to catch a breath before he felt her fingers come into contact with increasingly sensitive skin.

_God, this is so stupid, this is so bad, this is so fucking bad,_ her thoughts raced. She didn't know why she started kissing back. Maybe if she didn't look like she was helpless he'd not want her, if he thought she enjoyed it he might not get off on it anymore… but if not, this was only going to get worse. She knew what was going to happen to her, and she could either fight him as he did it or maybe throw him off guard by responding. She was sure none of the others he'd obviously done this to before had tried something similar.

His hands moved again to her shoulders, both her hands resting on his hips, him again breaking their kiss to take another deep breath, forehead momentarily resting on her shoulder again as the warmth coursing through his body guided his hands further across hers, a lump forming in his throat. Goddamn it, this was _amazing. _He could already feel himself stiffening, that whole beautiful process of rushing blood, the muscles in his stomach tightening as his eyes opened and fell upon hers.

Again, he said to say it. "You really are so fucking beautiful."

"Don't say that," she whispered, her hand now resting on the skin where his belt buckle had been a few moments ago, fingers ready to initiate the same attack his had moments earlier.

"Why? It's the truth. I can't fathom this is the first time you've heard that... you're blushing like it is, though."

She shook her head, her throat becoming sore and tears welling again. "Please don't."

He shook his head. "I will. You are gorgeous. I'm already a little smitten to be honest, you're not screaming like the others."

With no hesitation, his mouth again was to hers, another kiss growing as she tried to ignore that last comment, running headfirst towards the idea the faster she got this over with, the sooner he would let her go. She pushed herself up to her elbows, using the open space he then gave her between them for her arms to wrap around him. Clawing at the shirt loosely around his body, she pushed the sleeves down his arms that had fallen to his sides, another heated kiss distracting him as the fabric bunched up at his buttoned wrists.

"Shit, shit," he panted against her lips, eyes opening, seeing vividly for the first time the bright red of the makeup that had been on his lips across her mouth, white powder caked onto her chin and cheeks.

She could barely see the color of his skin under the white, but she could see it nonetheless. She'd forgotten about the makeup – how she did, she couldn't comprehend – and they'd managed to smear it over her face. Tasting the odd compounds of powder in her mouth, she could see the skin of his chin, the pale shades of his lips peaking through, one particular jagged, purple scar running deeply across his bottom lip.

Her hands gently cradled his, again unfastening the buttons against his skin. His eyes drifted down to hers, the look of pure confusion on his face priceless, a grin tugging at her mouth as the fabric around his other wrist released as well. Roughly her hands drug the shirt away from him, his thin frame curling over hers, hands cupping over her ears and fingers entwining in the softness of her hair that remained spilled over her shoulders, the two again drifting down to the mattress.

About to press another kiss to her mouth, he suddenly felt the soft pads of her fingertips touching his jaw, cold as she trailed the scar he knew she'd been looking at the entire night.

He felt the blood that began to boil in his chest. "Don't you do that."

Hot breath engulfed her fingers, body suddenly aware that his hands held her head still, the pressure he put down reminding her of who'd she met only so long ago. Her fingers froze, resting exactly where they'd been when he spoke.

"Out of everything you could be feeling," he spitefully forced his words out, "why _that_."

Almost painfully made aware of where her other hand still lie, his breath nearly seized when he felt her grip him, his hands relieving the pressure he was putting down on her skull.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," she whispered, trying to do anything but piss him off. "It's just that… that scar, it's so deep."

Her thumb rubbing against him, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, an involuntary grin pulling at his mouth, his chest heaving with one sigh carrying with it the word "yeah." He looked back to her, the grin on his face widening as he turned both cheeks to her. "I've got a couple more, if you didn't notice."

She couldn't see how deep the scars on his face ran under the layers of makeup; it'd done a good job of looking like a fucked up Halloween costume, but not the one on his lip.

His eyes widened, mouth coming down closer to hers. "You wanna know how I got 'em?"

She did nothing but slowly shake her head. Whatever it was… well, it was pretty fucking _obvious_ how much it bothered him.

He sighed again, obviously having scared the girl into quiet mode again, the feeling of her hand still tightly gripped around him, unmoving but the pressure nonetheless quite satisfying for the moment.

"As well," he muttered, bringing his hand down to the scarred thighs beneath him, trailing again the scars that ran across her skin. "If you won't tell I won't tell either, I guess that's even split."

Another kiss heatedly plunged into her mouth, the game resuming, the bolt that shocked him as he felt her again respond seeming to have struck him everywhere, eyes shut in disbelief as her tongue wrestled in the same rhythm as his. The slowness of her breath made everything so perfect again. The feeling that had built up in the pit of his stomach grew warmer, her hand working magic between them proving almost too much for him, making a point of not breaking for breath now. Usually he played with the victim for a little longer, said some terrible shit in her ear before splitting her in half, but it'd been years since a girl even returned his kiss, much less made him feel so fucking good he nearly spilled out onto her hands. Breathing picked up again as his legs pried hers apart for the last time, trying to save himself for the main event, hand brought down to push hers away and position himself before moving in.

She knew what he was about to do. "Wait."

He met her gaze again, the dim light in the room and the pull of his veins making everything in his field of vision a little fuzzy. "Hm?"

She felt so fucking stupid. "Please, can you wear… wear a condom?" her shaking voice asked, face already flushing red with embarassment as he continued to look down.

He scoffed, eyes rolling before returning to their prior closed status. "I'll pay for the abortion," he muttered, head resting against her chest, ears listening to the rapid, rampant beats of her heart.

She felt as he pressed into her, her entire body tensing and squirming beneath him, the tight pain squeezing her eyes shut and a cry from her, her arms wrapped over his back and hands gripping his shoulders. Further diving in, her eyes closed, another cry choking past her mouth before his held her lips together, trying to distract her with another kiss. Again, and again, and again, her breath seized in her chest, the pain as fresh as the first insertion every time.

God… it was like.. he'd won… the fucking _lottery_… the breathy thoughts in his head formed, one hand cradling her head as he continued to kiss her, the other grazing the curve of her breast. It was like he was romancing an incinerator, the heat and the feeling of her insides so much better than anything he'd ever felt, lips trembling against hers just in the wake of the warmth that resonated from her skin. He didn't feel worthy enough for this, felt like a bastard for stealing this most intimate of moments from her, but she'd starting giving him some pretty mixed signals, what with the kisses she'd been initiating and the amazing work her hand had done for him seconds ago.

The tears that had formed on her face were beginning to spread onto his cheeks, the warm droplets of them turning cold as it trailed down their chins, a few curving under his jaw. She was wriggling beneath him, so obviously in pain, so obviously trying to hide it but once again doing a poor job. He couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of her trying to hold onto him, the emotions he knew tore through her along with his continuously thrusting body, the overwhelming nature of it all beading out into the sweat across her, a grin forcing it's way over his face as his muscles tightened. In all those rushed times before this he'd had not even a second to savor those little moments he was so fond of, and this time was just perfect… he just wished he could make it last longer.

_It hurts, it hurts so fucking bad, _the sound that burned through her throat agonizing to keep down as he continued onwards, rhythm speeding up, pain evermore increasing as she clung to him. She was sure he was going to make her bleed by the time this was all done with, and goddamn it she just wanted it to be over.

He felt his body beginning to tense, muscles tightening in his stomach, the pull in his veins greater, liquid fire pulsing through him, bringing him over that plateau he'd managed to keep himself from toppling earlier. His breath barely made it past his mouth, his hips continuing to thrust into her before he exploded, orgasm screaming through his body onto to peak as a stifled cry in his throat, one deep breath passing through him before he rested against her. He pressed his ear to her chest, still loving the sound of that pounding heart, the dampness he felt between their bodies nearly getting him ready for another go.

She lie still, so thankful it was over, her stomach turning as she could feel the hot liquid that now resided in her body as he pulled himself out, her eyes fluttering open when she felt his fingers brush her face. His body still lie pressed against her but hand had wandered up, taking it's time in dragging it's fingers across her cheek and settle quietly on the curve of her neck and shoulder.

"So," he said, voice low, almost tired, "you know I'm going to ask again."

"What?" she whispered, the last of tears sneaking past her lids, breath steadying as his throaty chuckle warmed her chest.

"Was it as good for you." He eyes opened, staring past the cotton of her bra and looking to the door he'd dragged her through. _Guess I need to get rid of her now._

"Almost."

His lids sleepily slid shut, a laugh bursting through his mouth. "'Almost'?"

She stared up at the ceiling. "It hurt." She felt the muscles in his face shift against the skin of her chest.

His eyes opened again. "It hurt?"

She was silent for a few seconds, the memory of the blade pressed to her throat still fresh in the stinging wounds in her flesh. "You told me not to lie to you."

Momentarily ashamed, back to that overwhelming feeling of wronging her he'd gotten at the beginning of the whole thing, he closed his eyes, pressing a small kiss to her chest.

"I'm sorry."

The words ringing loud in her ears, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes again, breath shaking as she half scoffed, half laughed at his response.

"No, you aren't," she whispered.

The bile that crept up the back of his mouth stopped, teeth clenching together as the twilight feeling that lingered in him faded, fingernails digging into her neck and making her scream as he seized her throat again, lifting himself and luring over her as he forced eye contact again. And just when he thought she was going to keep listening to him… well, wouldn't be the first time he was a bad judge of character.

"That's right, I'm not."

* * *

Hey! So, I saw all you guys reading this, the stats page is awesome haha. I'll definitely be continuing this story, I guess this is kind of the remainder of the first chapter so yeah, same situation but it'll keep kicking just give me the time to write it out. I got pretty sick over the Thanksgiving holiday - yay me - so that's why the remainder took so long to come out, but yeah, I plan to have this story finished by the end of this month so large updates will be coming much more frequently. Thanks for coming back for the second chapter, thanks for the reviews and I will hopefully have more up by the end of the week. –p.


	3. Chapter 2

She stared at him, blood welling up and becoming slippery under his hands as he held her still. Returning the burning gaze she kept on him, he felt a grin come to his face again. Suddenly releasing her, he laughed, her body slamming back down against the mattress.

"I'll make you a deal. If you can get to and out the door before the time I get back with something to get you to calm down, you can leave. I'll give you your keys and everything," he said, his mouth pulled in a grin.

Suddenly pushing himself to his knees, knowing from the get go she wouldn't figure it out, he grabbed the fabric of his pants that had bunched up around his feet, buttoning them and zipping the fly shut before he scoot a few inches back to sit on the opposite side of the mattress, giving her the space to get up and run.

She scrambled to get to her feet, arms banging against the door as her hands frantically shook, unable to handle a lock if her life depended on it - which in this case it quite did - and it was pretty entertaining watching this girl tremble. He pushed himself to his feet, remembering the aid in shushing even the most terrified of his guests he kept in the cabinets of the bathroom. Having met and successfully bought some shit off of the man who had earlier released a toxic chemical into the water supply, he was interested in seeing just what exactly it was that made everybody so goddamn_ insane _that one night. In cases where the bitch wouldn't stop fighting he'd spray some of it in her face, and off he went to take his time before he'd choke her.

Her back remaining turned from him, he walked across the room and into the bathroom, her continuing to try and flip the locks, unhinge the chains, shaking the handle violently, about to break it off if she tried any harder. Opening the mirror and grabbing the small, red bag with the bottle the guy had given him, he got out the spray, tossing the red bag onto the sink counter and coming out to introduce her.

"Hey, hey," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder, her hands still trying to unlock the door. He aimed the bottle at the back of her head.

He leaned his mouth close to her ear. "Hey."

Her head snapped around, eyes wide and mouth open as suddenly he pulled the trigger of the bottle, spraying the contents into her face. Immediately going into a fit of coughing, she fell back down to the floor, curling up as she heaved and gasped for air. Her vision began to blur, noises around her amplifying as her heart raced, eyes dashing back and forth as they tried to hold onto anything, any object that would keep her focused enough to not go unconscious.

Leaning to the ground and scooping her into his arms, he pulled her back into the illuminated part of the room, her body colliding very roughly with the mattress as the different colors of the room started to blind her, her heart beating so fast she couldn't catch her breath. Eyes open as wide as they'd ever been she panted for air, the sudden pale-faced figure that lured over her made her scream.

Shit, he forgot how bad this would make a person trip. Reaching for the tie she pulled off of him and tossed to the ground, he grabbed her head, wrapping the tie around her eyes until her vision was completely sealed shut. He cupped his hand over her mouth, silencing the further screams that burst from her chest.

"Just calm down," he whispered into her ear. "If you relax you'll calm down. Go to sleep."

As much as he loved the fight, he had to admit, it was a Tuesday night, and with that window being open, somebody was bound to get suspicious because of all these screams, even in this shitty neighborhood. He felt her starting to go limp in his arms, every feeling overwhelming her to the point of fainting as she once again grabbed onto the fabric covering his shoulders, bunching it in her fingers, her head pressing against his chest as he heard her losing her breaths. He took his hand off of her mouth, one final breath passing through before she fell backwards, unconscious.

**..........**

Her lids opened lazily, the lightly striped pillow her head rested on blocking her vision of the room illuminated by the pale light cast down outside, the bright gray sky peaking above the brick building outside. It must've been the marine fog, she thought. Why else would it be cloudy in July? The sleep she'd awoken from clung to her like garments, the warmth from her body resonating in the thick, green blanket wrapped around her making her all the more tired and willing to close her eyes again. She gave in, momentarily digging her head back into the soft pillow, pulling the blanket tight and bringing her knees up to her chest as she sighed, the weight of sleep dragging her further towards unconsciousness.

She remembered where she was. Of course she knew. He'd drugged her at some point and she'd passed out. Whatever he'd done after that she didn't want to know. She could feel the deep ache in her body, the soreness in her bones as she curled up.

The light that had flooded the room was even obvious to her with closed eyes, the normal darkness she would've seen made red, nearly orange by the rays that touched down to the floor. Squeezing her lids tightly she tried to block out the color, bringing her blanketed hand to rest across her face, surrounding her again with darkness, sleep sounding better more than ever. It was only when she yawned she began to recognize the sounds of words being spoken, a small electric hum filling her ears as she recognized the precise rhythm of speech as only a reporter could recite, the brief sound of a television theme song she knew to be that of one of the news channels here confirming her suspicion. Curious and almost nervous to see what she was about to wake up to, she opened her eyes, the pillow still blocking a corner of her vision.

A small television was propped up on a chair with a dark jacket hung over it, cord hanging from it's side and connected to the outlet on the wall with the window, pushed into the corner and facing the opposite wall. She could see the face of a woman wearing a yellow dress shirt on the screen, white dangling earrings standing out against her short black hair so vividly even her sleep clouded eyes could see them. A blue bar with the letters of her name spelled out across it appeared at the bottom of the screen, followed by a decent sized photo of a mug shot in the top right corner, small white font of the words "JOKER KILLINGS" under it.

Her eyes widened. Straining to hear her voice, the low volume being drowned in the sounds of traffic outside let in by the open window, she watched as the woman spoke, eyes never breaking with the camera until the mug shot in the right hand corner suddenly filled the screen.

There was his face again. There was that smirk. White makeup and dirty hair above a snug green vest and blue shirt peered forward, bright red smeared across his face like he'd just clawed it himself before the photo was snapped with black ink running down his eyes and cheeks. The photo was now accompanied by a listing of his height, weight, brown eyes, the special notes of his hair being multiple colors and several scars on his face covered with makeup underlined, as well as the message to call 911 if anyone matching such a description should be seen.

Just before she could have any doubt, she heard a quiet chuckle come from what she was knew was her side of the room.

_Well, I guess if I was even about to wonder if I was hallucinating last night…_

She turned her head upwards, using her hand to push down the pillow that blocked her view, somehow not surprised to see him sitting in the opposing corner, back pressed against the same wall she lie inches from, legs extended forward with his arms folded across his chest, made up face still pulled in that same smile they both saw on the television. She watched him take a breath, resting his head against the wall and looking towards the open window, eyes on the fog that hovered above the building as he put his arms to his sides, one hand going into a pocket and removing a cigarette case. Flipping it open and selecting the first item he saw, he put the cigarette in his mouth, shutting the case and digging back into his pocket to get a lighter. Rubbing his thumb against the trigger until a small flame showed it's head, he burned the tip until the smoke curled up and away from the cigarette, taking the opportunity to inhale it as he released the trigger and shoved the lighter back into his pocket.

She sighed. "Could I get one of those?"

His head snapped to the side, completely unaware she'd even opened her eyes. The sudden breath he'd taken in pushed the smoke further down his lungs, getting a small cough from him as he brought up his other hand to cover his mouth.

"You smoke?"

She nodded. "Since I was a kid."

He squinted a little bit. She didn't look like much past eighteen, if that. _Guess maybe that's why I was surprised she was out on a school night_. "How long ago was that, like… five, six years ago?"

She smiled. "I get that a lot."

"I bet. Reds okay?" he asked, hands prying open the case again, pinning a cigarette between his index and middle fingers.

She nodded. "I haven't had one in awhile. They're strong, lots of tobacco."

"Yeah, well," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet and making the short distance trip between them, handing her the lit cigarette from his mouth and sparking the other before sitting down next to the mattress, "I like tobacco."

She took the cigarette from his hand, noticing for the first time the massive bruises on his fingers and undeniably feeling her heart speed up as she'd seen him get up and come closer, arm almost shaking as she lifted herself to her elbow and unwound her legs, swinging them to the edge of the mattress as she straightened her arm so she could sit with her back to the wall. Her legs peaked out from under the blanket, legitimately surprised to see the skirt he'd pulled off of her last night back around her hips. Now that she thought about it, her shirt was buttoned to the collar, too. Eyes briefly glancing to her side, she saw his clothing was in the same manner, blue shirt she'd pulled off hours earlier now buttoned, green vest around him again, fabric even fastened at the wrists. His gloves were nowhere to be seen, her eyes trailing his legs down to the bows his shoelaces remained tied in as she took a drag off of the cigarette, the end a little damp from the prior owner's lips.

She seemed to be a little bit more than thankful for the fact that he'd put her clothes back on. It didn't seem fair she should wake up, still panicked and possibly tripping from those chemicals he'd sprayed in her mouth the night before to find out she was still naked and bleeding down her thighs because of him. Whatever that guy with the scratched up sack over his face had the tendency to fuck people up permanently over what they saw, so he'd wrapped his tie around her eyes until she was undoubtedly asleep. He'd rather liked that rush he'd gotten when he'd first tried that shit, but he wasn't going to give her something that'd make her trip so hard when she was already convinced she was about to die. No, none of that.

He felt almost bad over it. Yeah, he'd been lying before. He did care, purely because she was nice. Any girl who would touch his scarred up mouth had to have something different from the rest he'd come and gone through. He'd never gone so rough so fast before, he felt alright himself but he knew she had to be feeling like shit. He'd actually taken the time to go get a wash cloth and clean the blood off of her legs while she was passed out, put her clothes back on and wrapped her in the only blanket he had. He even shut the window so it wouldn't be cold, something that made him feel like losing his fucking mind sometimes. He didn't like the stuffy air, it was almost intolerable for him to be anywhere where air wasn't circulating. Just didn't feel right. But it was July, and it didn't take long for it to get warm in the day now, so when he'd woken up around eight he'd pushed the window open and let the stale air out. He'd flipped on the television to see if he was right about the time – he'd managed to catch the morning news and look at his reflection on broadcast television.

The lady at the news desk was repeating the events he'd rehashed in his dreams before the sound of a truck honking the horn woke him up. Saying the police had almost caught him until the wire he was dangling from snapped; from there, no one saw what happened to him. There was no body found on the pavement or any signs or means of escape. Then they'd put up his details, and that goddamn mug shot. It's not like anybody thought he was really alive anyways.

Watching the girl beside him taking another drag off of the cigarette in her hand, smoke creeping from her nostrils before slowly exhaled reminding him of the consistently burning cigarette in his hand, ash starting to form. Breathing in all he could and holding it deep in his chest, another grin plucking at his lips as the taste in his mouth reminded him he'd put a little bit extra in these cigarettes to push them in the direction of the _special_ variety for when shit started getting too hectic; he sure as hell had lit one when she'd fallen asleep.

_Oh, wow. The smell's pretty obvious. Who gives a shit though, it's not like I'm ever going to show up for work again. It is a cool combination, though_. She glanced to her side, noticing the grin on his face as he noticed her head turned, the two making eye contact.

"Hah… yeah. Forgot," he said, nodding towards the cigarette before taking another drag and resting his head against the wall, directing his vision to the ceiling.

She felt herself started to grin back. "It's all good, it's just been a really long time."

His smile widened. "Kind of a recent thing for me. Just been getting pretty popular, if you haven't noticed."

She didn't want to answer that. "Where do you get it from?"

He shrugged. "Usually it's a peace offering. Never really wanted to until shit started getting chaotic."

Yeah. She took a long breath in, lungs feeling surprising good. "Understood."

"I think I need to wait until it's dark again to take you back. I thought you'd be asleep for longer. I predict it wouldn't be easy for me to sneak around," he said quietly.

She nodded. "Okay."

He turned his head towards her. "I said I wasn't going to kill you."

She looked at him. "I know."

"I'm not going to, so you don't have to shake every time I look at you."

Turning her head away, she felt her face starting to go red, her voice caught in her throat. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ "I don't mean to."

A small sound was carried in the exhale of smoke from his mouth. "I certainly hope not."

"It's just hard not to."

He lifted his brows, voice falling flat. "_Meaning_."

She shrugged, her elbow pointing down towards the bed. "Just isn't the first time."

_Makes sense_. He sighed, pulling his head forward and moving closer to her. Again, he saw her flinch. If she didn't knock that shit off he felt entitled to prove the principal of the goddamn thing and pin her down again. Using his free hand to touch her face, he remained wordless, wiping off the tear he'd just seen spill down her cheek.

"None of that," he muttered. None of the girls ever really cried, and if they did it was only what they wanted they to do him. He didn't like this shit, it was too similar.

She nodded her head.

"Nonetheless you don't need to keep thinking I'm going to kill you, if you think you need to do something to guarantee that you can let me sleep next to you, this floor is fucking uncomfortable."

She nodded again. "Sure."

He made eye contact. "Do you want anything?"

"What?"

He shrugged. "Anything. Food, water?"

She looked at the wounds she could see on his face, those that had been fresh early this morning mixed with makeup for hours. She could already see it was looking nasty.

"Wash your face, those cuts are going to get infected."

He looked at her blankly. "What."

She felt her heart speed up again. Goddamn it, she needed to watch what she said. "It would be bad if they got infected, the makeup's just exacerbating it."

He grinned. "'Exacerbating.' _Fancy_."

"You know what I mean," she said quietly, eyes going to the floor.

He was quiet for a few seconds. "You just want to see."

"What, infections?" she legitimately asked.

He shook his head. "No. You just want to see."

_Scars_. She closed her eyes, feeling stupid all over again. "Shit, that's not what I meant," she said, shaking her head. "Honestly, I didn't mean it like that."

He looked across the room, a smile pinned on his face again. "It's okay. Sounds like a good idea anyways. Be a dear," he said, extending his hand to hers, passing off the cigarette to her as he got up again, walking across the room and through a door on the wall she hadn't noticed before.

A light switched on, loud buzzing coming from it as it lit a shower curtain, the sound of water running through the pipes even louder as the sink was switched on. She could hear water filling up in his cupped hands, running over his face, the cycle continuous for a minute or so until he had scrubbed the wounds clean and reemerged.

Those brown eyes were wide again, lips parted as she stared at him. He tried not to frown.

"What, not clean enough?" he muttered, not making eye contact as he stepped forward, taking back his cigarette from her unmoving hand, sitting back down beside her and taking a deep drag of it.

When more than a few seconds of silence passed, he turned his head only to see her ongoing stare.

"What."

It was far worse than anything she could've imagined. She could see the dip in the skin formed by the jagged scars, the angled tips on the end curved upwards, some psychotic rendition of a smile. There was still a little bit of makeup caked in the corner of his eyes and stained on the side of his nose.

It didn't take long for her to see the anger boiling under his skin, how his jaw shook as he unsuccessfully tried to stop himself from frowning.

"What," he repeated, "t" drawn out unnecessarily long.

"Where did you get them?" she asked quietly

He suddenly grinned, accompanied by the shaking of his head. "Not unless you tell first."

She looked away, that compromise not enough to give further detail. Maybe it was the same one who did it to him._ Would make a whole lot of sense as to why she's too scared to talk about it, I'm not exactly thrilled to keep bringing it up_.

She turned back to look at him. Watching again as he took a drag off his cigarette, almost to the end of it, her eyes studied his, looking so much more different without black completely covering them. Very faintly on his stained pale skin she could see brown freckles, now noticing the tips of white he'd forgotten to wash off of his ears. She didn't know why, but it made her smile a little bit.

Silence again hung in the air, getting him further aggravated as he turned to face her, only to see her smiling. She got embarrassed again when he looked her in the eye.

"Something funny?" he muttered, taking another drag.

"You have freckles."

He squinted. "What about them."

"I like them."

"Why?"

"I don't know. You still have some paint on your ears."

He half scoffed. "So?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just not thinking that well right now. Tired."

He nodded. "Same." He glanced over to her, motioning to the empty space next to her on the mattress. "Do you mind if I join you then?"

She shook her head, scooting across the mattress to give him the space she had just been sitting in. Putting out her cigarette on the floor, he did the same before lifting himself up, kicking off his shoes before staring down at her, her back still against the wall.

"Lie flat."

Not interested in meeting a knife again when she didn't follow his orders, she lowered herself down to the right, bringing her legs back against the wall, adjusting accordingly to lie in a comfortable position. He got down, straightening his body as he rest next to her, a breath leaving his body before he turned his head to look at her.

"Are you cold?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head.

He left his eyes on her. "I am a little bit."

She lowered her hand, pulling out the blanket from beneath the two of them before handing it to him. "Here, you can have it."

He muttered something she couldn't understand before she felt his arm lie over chest, again hovering over her before he leaned down to steal a kiss from her. Resting back down and pulling the blanket over his body, as he closed his eyes she repeated his words in her head over and over again until the sounds strung together made sense, the words she had missed being "Thank you."

Feeling suddenly compelled to return the favor, she turned towards him, extending her arm out across his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. She heard him sigh, eyes remaining shut.

"Why now?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you so friendly now, but if I respond you'd cringe?"

"I'm just dumb… I guess…" she said, unsure of what an acceptable response would be. _I don't know, maybe it's because earlier you were going to slit my throat_? She just wanted to last long enough to get out of here, and her prior plan of going along with what he wanted seemed to be prolonging her life.

"No," he muttered, shaking his head, the weight of her arm over his chest such a good feeling. "I'm not interested in your overcompensation."

Sliding her hand back across his chest, she brought her thumb to her tongue, licking it before she brought it to his earlobe, smudging off the remaining white makeup that clung to his skin.

He felt his closed eyes rolling into the back of his head, feeling he'd gotten so much more than he'd bargained for now and for once thankful of the conscience that tended to fuck with him at every other opportunity. A smile forced its way onto his mouth, his lips pulled back over his teeth as a little laugh came out of his chest.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked.

"I told you, you missed a little," she said, thumb running over the scar in his lobe from when he'd had his ear pierced, exactly like the ones she had in her lobes. "When you'd have your ears pierced?"

"When I was eighteen and trying to be rebellious," he muttered, face turning towards hers before he opened his eyes. "When did you?"

"Thirteenth birthday present."

"Ah, yeah, that's right. It's a right of passage for girls."

She nodded, resting her head against his chest, her hand coming down from his ear and following the curve between his neck and shoulder.

"I do have a legitimate question for you, though."

She looked up at him.

"Why didn't you try to escape until I had to force you to try?"

She remained still. "I'm trying to prove I'm trustworthy."

His irises flittered back and forth between hers. "You don't have to prove anything to me, I already told you I'm not going to kill you."

She shrugged. "If I'm going to be here, I might as well not make it any worse on myself."

He nodded, another laugh coming through. "Understood." He raised his arm that had lie between the two, folding it as he took her hand in his. "Better? Feel more like the real thing?"

She nodded. "A little. Can I ask you something then?"

"Sure."

She attempted to swallow past the nerve wracking feeling she had in asking the question. "What were you running from?"

He was quiet before letting out a rather loud sigh, the memory of the dream he'd been startled out of too similar to the prior night. "Oh_, that_," he whispered, voice shaky.

"I heard your footsteps, you were running fast," she said.

He blinked. "Yeah. I, uh… I seemed to have been cornered… I guess more appropriately hung on a hook for law enforcement to come arrest me. Wire snapped, I fell a few stories, wire caught on scaffolding, got flung into the building. Ran down some stairs and down the block, and, there were those brake lights." He stopped to pull another grin across his face. "Such a godsend."

"I was trying to turn around in that garage so I could head home. The streets were so packed full of people, figured I would try to find another way there."

"Mm, I almost forgot about that."

"I don't even know what so many people were doing out late, it was just weird."

"You don't watch the news much, do you?"

"Yeah, I do, just been working weird, late hours lately so I never seem to be at a screen to watch it when it's on."

He chuckled. "I just did my typical behavior, seems I have their full attention now."

The dread that was pooled in her stomach became ever more awake, nearly keeping her from speaking. "What happened?"

He craned his neck, putting his mouth as close as he could to her ear. "I filled two ferries with explosives and gave each boat the opposite's detonator. They had until midnight to decide who goes up before they both did."

Her eyes went wide. _Oh, my god… that's why he was the first thing on the news… that's what he'd been running from. Makes sense what all those people were doing; you were right by the docks._

"You aren't disheartened now, are you?" he asked after she'd remained silent for several seconds.

"No, just, shocked…" she said.

His voice fell flat. "Don't be, they didn't do it."

"Really?"

He licked his lips. "Yep. Surprised even me. Surprised even more I lived through that shit. Now no one knows where I am and they're going out in full force looking."

_I guess now's the chance to say it_. "I won't tell anyone," she said.

"Even if you did I doubt anyone would believe you, people saw me plummet a few stories towards the ground. Probably think somebody just scraped my body off the pavement and then dumped it in the ocean." He grinned again. "I don't think you know where you are, anyways."

"You're right, I don't. I'm not from here originally, just moved for the job."

"Mm, even better, I remain reassuringly untraceable."

"You grow up here?"

He slowly nodded. "Unfortunately."

"That's rough. Can't imagine this city was that nice."

"You have no idea."

Closing her eyes and again resting her head on his shoulder, she let out a deep breath, tiredness weighing down her lids as she settled into comfortable darkness. She felt him do the same thing.

As tired as – if not more than – she, his final movement came in tossing the edge of the blanket over her side, successfully covering her with one, swift movement before he turned his head towards the top of hers, almost forgetting what fingers curling around his hands felt like until she reaffirmed her grip. This was odd, even by his standards. He'd never had a girl seemingly accept and perhaps even _enjoy_ being taken over, who put all her effort into whatever he wanted rather than their attempt to escape. Whatever it was, he seemed to trust he wouldn't regret falling asleep now, that he wouldn't be getting fucked over for letting his guard down at this very moment. Some of his knives were in his coat pocket that hung on the chair, a few others still in his pants; should the girl get up and get one while he was sleeping, she could easily gut him. Even if she did, she had the right to, and he wasn't going to deny her the chance if she so felt like it. He wasn't any model citizen who deserved any mercy.

**..........**

A good amount had passed before he saw her raise her head again. He'd gotten up around four, drank the remainder of alcohol he'd kept in the bathroom cabinet and watched the television again. He'd sat down just in time to watch another broadcast of the news, catching the far bigger story than his disappearance. Harvey Dent was dead, and not only that, but supposedly killed by that "_bat_man." Dropped off a couple stories, killed along with a handful of others over the night by the same man. He shook his head.

_No, no, no, Batman didn't kill him_ he thought as he lit another cigarette. He knew first hand by how fast he stuck to his moral code. Such bullshit that anyone would even begin to assume he was even capable of killing somebody. He was almost certain Harvey'd been the one that killed the others in the body count he'd been lumped into, he recognized other names in that list and it was too close to be a coincidence. He couldn't help but feel a little sad hearing Harvey was dead, he hadn't thought he was that bad of a guy.

She looked up at him, no longer tired, moving back to her prior position of her back against the wall as she pushed the blanket away from her. The open window had let the heat from outside in over the day, the sounds of traffic still audible. Her sides were achy, pain nagging constantly at her as she sat quietly, observing him the way she had in the morning.

"How are you?" she asked.

He turned his head gently towards her, smoke exhaling from his nose. "Rested."

She nodded. "What time is it?"

He glanced back towards the television. "Around half past five, I think. We'll leave in a few hours."

She closed her eyes, laying her head on the wall. It got dark around eight thirty now, should only be another three hours before she was gone. The second she was home she wanted to take a hot shower, curl up and go back to sleep. God, nothing sounded better than that.

He had nothing to do once she was gone. Quite a common phenomenon for him, but he was nonetheless going to be sad to see her go. He was used to knowing exactly where his victims ended up, it'll be a little different this time knowing she'd still be alive and around the city, possibly one day seeing her again should he be so lucky. Turning his head in her direction, he cast his eyes on her face, her obviously uncomfortable frame looking more apathetic than ever. Mm, something about that shit was making it impossible for him to enjoy this. Something had tripped up him since she'd said this wasn't the "first" time, assuming that meant this wasn't the first time somebody was doing the same horrible shit he just had. Once again, an example of how his conscience would fuck with him.

He figured he'd ask. He took another drag from his cigarette. "So, this wasn't the first time?"

Her eyes opened, her head snapping back forward and turning in the opposite direction of him. "Uhm, no."

He nodded, eyes momentarily drifting back to the television as he took another drag. "So what was?"

She shook her head. "Does it matter?"

He shrugged. "Maybe a little. Is that where those scars came from?"

It took her a few seconds to mutter the word "Yeah."

A sigh passed through his mouth, carrying with it his reply. "I figured. Just not fair."

Her eyes stared blankly ahead of her. "What isn't?"

"They shouldn't have done that."

She scoffed. "Yeah? Like you shouldn't of?"

He grinned. _I really do enjoy these fights_. "Mhmm," he mumbled, lips around the cigarette again.

"Which you probably will do again," she murmured.

He shook his head. "I can guarantee you I won't." _It's just not as fun for me anymore. She doesn't look like her at all, but she's doing a good job of reminding me of her… and making me feel like him. Ah, what a bunch of goddamn introspective nightmares I've been running into lately.. _

"No, you can't."

He laughed. "Oh, come on now, haven't I been honest the rest of this time? It's the only thing I hold sacred. I might be a bastard but at least I've got a manner or two."

When she didn't reply, he faced her with a wide grin on his face, again pushing himself up and crossing the room to pick up his jacket that hung over the seat the television lie in. Digging into the coat's pocket, inhaling and exhaling another puff from the cigarette, he removed the handgun he carried on him just for the novelty of it.

She heard his footsteps coming closer to her, the shift in the air of the room as he stopped in front of her, his shadow cast on the wall with the door bent down towards her, arm extending something out to her. She turned her heard towards him, eyes going wide when she stared down the barrel aimed at her.

"Honestly. Here, if you think I'll try again," he said, trying to hand off a gun to her that she'd had no idea he carried on him the entirety of the night, another trail of smoke leaving his nose. Nausea rising in her throat at he pointed the gun at her, he saw the same goddamn fear he'd been trying to work around looking back at him, suddenly realizing he'd tried to hand her the gun barrel first.

"Ahh, dumb," he said, putting the gun down on the floor and spinning it until the barrel now pointed at him. "Didn't mean it like that."

She didn't want to reach out and grab the gun just yet. He watched her eye it before he sighed, picking up the gun again and forcing it into her hands, maneuvering her fingers so one rested on the trigger as he knelt down in front of her.

"I've got at least three or four bullets left, you shoot the fuck out of me if you suspect foul play."

The metal of the gun was warming up quickly in her palm, his eyes gazing down and meeting hers.

"So why now for you?" she asked.

He grinned. "You aren't so fun for me anymore."

Her face fell flat. "Why?"

He felt like being cold, another drag taken off his cigarette. "_Used_ products."

Brows furrowed angrily. "That's pretty fucked."

His smile widened. "Good choice of words."

She shook her head again, a little glimpse of a tear poking out from the corner of her eye. "You're an asshole. I didn't get any answer out of you and then mock you with it."

He sighed_. True_. "You should know me well enough to expect that so far. And I'm not trying to mock you, I just typically don't filter anything I say."

She looked through him. "Then just be quiet for the next three hours."

Now his brows were furrowed. "Ah, no can do. I said I wasn't going to kill you, not that I would shut my mouth."

Leaning forward, he flicked the cigarette out of his hand before bringing it to up to her face, holding her steady as he pressed a kiss to her lips, his eyes shutting as he trailed his hand down her arm and rested it at the bend of her elbow. He slipped his tongue between her lips, convincing her mouth to open before going deeper, trying to smother the next hateful thing he feared she'd say. Things were going well so far, he wanted to keep it so.

She cocked the gun she'd pressed to his temple, the sound echoing in their ears as she felt his lips curve into a smile, tasting smoke on his breath and feeling a rumble from his throat vibrating his lips as they separated, his forehead now pressed against hers.

"Well now," he whispered, eyes locking with hers. "Are you going to do it?"

She stared back. She didn't want to, she honestly didn't want to, but if he didn't get the fuck off of her – especially after that little comment he'd made about her being used – she didn't have a second thought about firing those bullets into his skull.

"Well?" he asked again.

She remained silent.

He didn't appreciate being threatened with a weapon, _especially_ when he didn't think the person on the other side of it wasn't going to make due. It was such a tease to him.

"I suggest you make a decision, I'm about to snap your wrist in half if you don't."

Continuing his stare, he couldn't deny feeling the smallest bit of relief when he felt the gun leave his temple, seeing in the corner of his eye as her hand rest on the mattress, gun released and hand returning to her side.

Another grin. "Much better. I don't intend to make these next few hours miserable for you, I just figured you'd know I'd probably try to cop another feel before you go. Won't be going anymore farther than that, I promise."

She didn't speak whatsoever. He pulled his face away from hers, resting back on his feet as he picked up the lit cigarette he'd tossed to the ground, taking another drag before ashing it.

"Hungry?" he asked.

Again, she was caught off guard. "Kind of," she lied.

He stood up again, holding the cigarette between his lips as he went back into the bathroom and opened up what sounded to be the cabinets under the sink, watching as his bent frame backed out of the doorway holding what looked like a huge, metal box. He placed the object on the floor, flipping open the top of it, revealing itself as a portable stove. He returned to the bathroom, bending down and tugging out a medium sized cardboard box, placing it next to the stove and pulling out a small pan he then put over one of the heating plates. He reached back into the cardboard, his hand returning with a large can of soup that he used to motion towards her with.

"It's basic, but I've got some vegetable soup," he said, making eye contact with her again. "Thirsty?"

She'd felt how dry her mouth was before he'd asked the question. She nodded.

He reached into the box again, this time now holding a small bottle of water he skidded across the room to her. It bumped into the mattress, her hand reluctantly reaching out to pick it up, the pain he'd implanted in her lower body ringing clear as she leaned her body forward. She slowly unscrewed the lid, his back turned to her now as he switched on the stove, his fingers prying the lid off of the soup before he poured it into the pan in front of him. Again going into the box, he pulled out two small bowls, tossing a plastic spoon into each of them as he turned to look at her, another puff of smoke exiting his nostrils.

"Nothing fancy, but, it's doable," he muttered.

She nodded. "I don't cook much either," she said before taking a sip out of the bottle he'd tossed to her.

"Who has the time?" he asked, eyes glancing over hers, the first legitimate grin on his face she thought she'd ever seen.

She nodded again, a grin unknowingly now on her face. "Yeah."

They sat quietly for the next few minutes, soup cooking as she finished the bottle of water. When he'd finished pouring it into the separate bowls, he got up again and sat down next to her, carefully handing over the bowl.

"It's pretty hot still," he said.

She looked down at the contents of the cup, white smoke rising and curling away. "Yeah, I can see the steam off it."

He nodded, dipping the plastic utensil in and bringing up a spoonful he slowly put into his mouth, teeth slowly tearing the soaked vegetables apart. "Still good, though," he said, steam creeping out from the small crack between his lips.

She dug the spoon in her hands into the hot liquid, scooping up some vegetables that peaked through the surface, tasting not as bland as she would've thought as she lifted it to her mouth.

After another batch of silence, he turned his head towards her again, eyes again on her face. "So, you really think no one noticed you disappeared for a day?"

She shook her head, placing the empty bowl down on the ground. "No, not even work. I had today off."

He stacked his bowl on top of hers. "No roommates, neighbors?"

"No roommates, no neighbors who wouldn't know me by name if someone did come looking."

He didn't know why he felt awkward asking now. "No significant others?"

She shook her head again. "_Definitely_ no significant others."

He blinked. "Friends?"

"Nah… just coworkers," she said quietly.

He turned his head away, ears temporarily picking up on the words being spoken on the television, vision briefly focused on the continuing news cast before returning to her.

"Understood. Don't feel too bad, I haven't had a real friend in years."

"Yeah, me neither."

Nodding his head along to some inaudible rhythm, he smiled at her again when she noticed him bobbing, clapping his hands together before resting them on his knees. "It's not so bad once you get used to it."

She nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"It's just hard to figure out who's trustworthy. Last thing I need is somebody spiking one of my bottles with arsenic."

_Never really thought of it that way before_… again, it made sense. Especially now.

**..........**

Holding her wrist firmly as she walked beside him, he pressed his lips against the scarf wrapped over his neck and up to his nose, confirming it still covered his cheeks when he felt the soft fabric brush against his skin. The past few hours had passed relatively uneventful. They'd had another cigarette over the time period, she'd watched him pack up the stove and dishes back into the bathroom, returning with a black scarf in his hands that she studied before watching him search continuously for something on the television before he settled for some lineup of sitcoms he'd never seen, taking the time to finally flip through the stacks of newspapers he'd been collecting over the past week. After staring at the wall across from her for some time she'd curled up and lie still on the mattress for another hour or so; whether she'd pretended to be asleep or not, she nonetheless hadn't done anything to bother him.

When it'd gotten dark outside, the fog returning and slightly chilling the air, before they had stepped out into the hallway he'd offered his jacket to her, happy when she'd pushed herself from the mattress and accepted it. Sliding her arms through the sleeves, he bent down to pick up the gun she'd left on the pillow, putting on the safety and sliding it into her pocket.

"Offer still stands, should I get anymore _handsy_ you go ahead and fire," he said, not breaking eye contact as he brushed his face against hers, placing a small kiss on her cheek before turning towards the locked door. "I put your keys in one of those pockets, yeah?"

She slid her hands into the pockets of his jacket, fingernails colliding with the multiple keys on a ring in the pocket opposite the one holding the gun. She nodded.

"Just making sure," he said quietly, fingers toying with the locks.

He undid each lock in the descending row in front of him, fingers turning the handle until the door unsealed itself from the frame. He let her exit first, switching off the light he'd turned on around sunset as they waited for the sky to go completely dark, locking the only outside bolt before gripping her wrist, walking very close to her as they went down the hallway, down the stairs he'd pulled her up the night before and to the wood doors they'd entered the apartment building through.

He paused at the door, releasing her wrist and digging into his pocket, slowly pulling out the black scarf he'd folded up earlier and wrapping it around his neck, covering his mouth before tying it into a knot beneath his hairline.

She looked at him, scanning over his eyes above the dark fabric.

"Just trying to not look obvious," he muttered, his eyes squinting with the smile she knew was covered by the scarf. She nodded.

He pushed open the heavy wood doors that let them out into the street, taking careful steps down the last set of stairs and looking down the block, seeing the car he'd made her drive here still parked, surprisingly undamaged. She stood naturally against him, not drawing any attention to the two, feet coming against the pavement quietly. A couple of streetlights had decided to turn on that night, the inactive others contributing to the darkness in the neighborhood, the yellow light cast from the working lamps making the brick buildings around here glow a little orange, the red color almost washed out. The area was practically empty, one car gliding down the street and turning at the corner of the block they were on and a small collection of voices becoming audible.

As they continued further down the block, they approached another stoop, three men sitting down with cans of beer and cigarettes in their hands, talking and laughing as he hoped to pass them uneventfully. He knew these guys specifically – hecklers, small time thieves that were always drunk when they'd gotten back from whatever shitty job they held to scrape together enough rent every month. He was sure they knew him by now, but purely only as a fellow resident, not the man depicted in the mug shots released over the past few days. Their necks twisted in his direction, eyeing him, their attention drawn to the black scarf around his face before turning it to the girl at his side, the men looking at each other before looking back to them.

He sighed. As usual, he'd managed to walk himself into some conflict.

"Hey!" one of the men yelled, the girl immediately looking up.

He set his eyes on the man, continuing to walk silently as they came closer to that specific stoop.

"What the fuck you got wrapped around your head?" the same man yelled.

When he yelled and still provoked no response from the man walking, he stood up, taking a stand a few steps down from where he'd been

"I'm talking to you, asshole!"

He rolled his eyes, stopping and switching sides with the girl so he stood between her and the ground of men. Picking up the pace again, the two continued to walk, the car only so much farther away at this point.

The man dropped the can in his hand, leaving the stoop and coming up to him, grabbing him by his collar and tie, yanking him forward. Again rolling his eyes, he sighed as he let go of the girl, brushing his hand against her arm to push her away from him, any amount of distance between her and these assholes a good amount.

"I said I was talking to you, asshole!" the man yelled into his face, his breath carrying the smell of alcohol with it.

"I heard you, you fool," he said, words slightly muffled underneath the scarf.

"What'd you say?!" he cried, glaring down at him, his friends that remained on the stoop getting up and joining in on heckling.

"Should I talk slower like you're a fucking _retard_?" he spat back, unable to help but smile as the man's grip on his collar tightened.

His hand shot up to his face, fingers tangling in the scarf before yanking it off of his face, skin coming into contact with the warm night air as his eyes snapped open, jaw dropping before he could form any words as his eyes focused on the scars.

_Well, I guess the cover's blown_.

"You're the fucking _Joker_!" the man yelled.

She continued to back away, her body coming into contact with the car parked along the street behind her, her hands feeling the cold metal under her fingers, remembering for what felt like the first time she wasn't the only person who knew who her kidnapper was.

_Ahh, shit, not a good thing to have somebody yell your name at the top of their lungs, especially when you're the most wanted man in the city._

"It's the Joker, he's got those scars on his face, call the cops!"

He didn't hear what the other men had begun yelling, only the sharp, loud pitches of their elevating voices, one recognizable sound of someone crying "Whoa!" before he heard gun fire, a piercing pain suddenly ripping through the left side of his chest.

_About time._

He heard her scream come from behind him, his eyes going wide as his breath seized, jaw slowly dragging itself downwards with his buckling knees. He saw one of the men on the stoop holding the gun he'd just been shot with, still aiming it towards him, slowly lowering into the holster at his side.

Now… how fucking unfair… he never used a gun…

"Call the cops, they're looking for this shithead!" the man closest to him yelled, moving forward to grab him by the shoulders before he looked past him, obviously to the frightened girl he knew to still be behind him.

She stared forward, the man that hadn't fired the gun getting out his cell phone, flipping it open and punching in the digits of the number for a call she didn't need to hear get picked up. Suddenly aware of the weight of the gun that hung in the purple jacket he'd given her to wear outside, she dug her hand into the pocket, wrapping her fingers around the trigger.

"Ma'am, you gotta get out of here, we've got him now," the man holding him down said, the sound of his fading breaths becoming louder as his eyes franticly moved across hers, almost pleading with her to not leave him at their hands.

_She has… no reason… to stay… especially not for you… unless she wants the satisfaction of seeing you die… you fucking bastard…_

He watched as the man holding him down turned his head to look at her, eyes wider than when he'd recognized this murderer when he saw the barrel of a gun pointed to his face, a bullet firing out and tearing into his forehead, blood shooting backwards as he fell to the ground. He saw her aim the gun again, the men still on the stoop screaming a brief symphony of the word "No!" before she fired another two shots, striking one in the chest and the other in the center of the forehead, both jerking backwards and hitting the door behind them before slinking motionlessly to the ground.

"Fuck…" he panted, feeling as blood welled up and spilled from the precise wound that ached throughout his chest, the girl shoving the gun back into his jacket's pocket and wrapping her arms around him to keep him from further falling to the ground. _She just fucking killed those men… aw, I knew I kept her around for a reason._

_Oh my god, oh my god, he's shot and I just fucking killed those people… holy fucking Christ_… the thoughts raced through her head as she drug him towards her car, opening the passenger seat and sitting him down, buckling him in before she ran to the other side, now unlocking her door and jumping into the drivers seat. Shoving the key into the ignition, she flipped it over, the car starting and the lights turning on automatically, illuminating the license plate and the bumper of the car parked in front of her. Craning her neck to see behind her as she put the car in reverse, she wiggled out from between the cars hers sat in the middle of and tore out into the street, following the lanes in the road to the turn where they had seen the earlier car go.

His breathing came hard, mouth hanging open, eyes squinting shut as he tried to reposition himself, recognizing the freeway signs they began to approach. He could feel the blood pouring from the wound, out into his clothes and further down his body. His hands were shaking violently, terrified any minute he would begin to cough up blood, confirming this wound was worse than he thought it may be.

She flipped on her turn signal, switching into the lane of the freeway onramp, ascending upwards to the road he saw multiple headlights passing through, his vision beginning to blur with the ever moving circular lights and the pitch black darkness.

"Where… are we going…" he barely whispered.

"I'm taking you to my apartment, put your hands on the wound and press as much pressure as you can, it'll stop the bleeding," she could barely say fast enough, switching lanes to move out the merging lane she was in, recognizing the exit names as not being too terribly far from her place now that she was on the freeway and not on twisted back roads.

He rested his head against the window. "Just… leave me… at a hospital," wincing on the last word, shooting pain rocking through his upper body.

"They won't treat you, they'll let you bleed to death."

"They have to," he spat out.

"I'm not risking it."

His eyes slipping shut, he felt the car accelerate, the hum of the freeway beneath the car lulling him into a state of low consciousness, barely able to feel the pressure of his forehead on the passenger window. With every beat of his heart the pain from his chest spread, the warmth of the blood spilling from the wound turning cold as it met the open air of the car. He could feel his lips twitching, tongue moving, words forming but falling deaf.

_She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, a sigh releasing from his chest as she rested her chin on the curve of his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he closed his eyes. "Honey, you really worry too much."_

"_I worry the exact right amount," he muttered, eyes opening, his arms still folded on the kitchen table in front of him, the hanging lamp above them illuminating the checkered table cloth, the chairs at each corner and the wooden high chair across him._

"_I can see it picking away at you, it's painful just to watch," she said._

_He nodded. "Even worse to be feeling it."_

_She felt her hands take his, her fingers squeezing around the ring on his. "He's not going to be angry with you, it's not your fault the baby was sick and you couldn't come in. Hell, he's got kids and he's poor, he knows what it's like."_

"_Yeah, I know," he muttered. "He's already pretty pissed with me, though. I'm already late with the rent and losing out on an entire day's pay isn't exactly helping here." He frowned, eyes squeezing shut and brows furrowing again as he sighed, hand reaching down to pick up the half filled glass in front of him, taking a sip of the alcohol in it that burnt his throat on the way down._

_He felt her rock him back and forth between her arms. "Well, the good thing to know is that the baby's okay, turns out he just had a little colic, and you can make up the hours you missed. Just don't worry about it, honey," she said, now pressing a kiss to his forehead._

_He squeezed her hand back, bringing it to his mouth as his lips curled into a smile. "I'll try."_

_She tightened her arms around his shoulders. "There's a smile," she whispered, kissing his cheek again._

"_Yeah, yeah," he muttered, his eyes remaining shut._

"_You oughta smile more, you look so beautiful when you do."_

* * *

weew, we're finally out of the apartment haha. This update came to a total of 22 pages in 12pt font, so, I hope you enjoy it! I have about another two pages of the next chapter written, I figure this was a good place to stop before the next chapter begins.. so, expect another big update in a few days. and since this update was uploaded around 11:45pm on December 8th, go buy _The Dark Knight_ tomorrow! Good times. -p.


	4. Chapter 3

He shook his head, mouth finally able to form the word "Shit", tears beginning to prick at the corner of his eyes, so nauseous he thought he was about to puke, so dizzy it made the backs of his eyes ache. He cracked his lids open, unaware of how his feet were moving, seeing the girl having propped him up and dragging him up concrete stairs. Beneath the stairs he saw rows of cars, lamps that actually worked, symmetrically planted trees and rocks around walkways. Even the most minimal ray of artificial light was painful, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to take a breath.

He could hear the wheezing from his throat, the noise that came from his chest provoked by the achingly fresh pain through his shoulder. He felt the stairway end and his feet dragging against the ground again, back resting against a door as he heard her fumble for her keys, moving him slightly so she could unlock the door and let him in. Hooking her arm around his body again, she swung him inside, shutting and locking the door behind him, pulling him to the couch where she gently lie him down before running into the opposite room.

He couldn't take a breath without pain burning through him, his lips shaking, unsure of what name rest in his mouth, waiting to call out for the girl who had left him here but having no idea what he should say. Before he could make a sound she had returned, towels in her hand as she dropped them to the floor in front of him, shoving one between him and the couch before starting to unfasten the buttons of his vest until it opened, digging her fingers between layers of fabric and tearing apart his shirt, buttons ripping from their strings scattering to his sides.

Sweat was beading on her forehead, her hands pressed to the wound that had finally stopped bleeding, a small, wetted cloth in her hands starting to clean the area. He was taking extremely shallow breaths, eyes still shut, mouth open, hand suddenly reaching up and grabbing her arm.

"Hey, hey, this isn't… first time I've had some jackass… try to shoot me," he said, opening his eyes, not able to see much past the first few inches from his face. "Just… never been shot in the chest."

She nodded. "Luckily he wasn't a good shot." The bullet hadn't hit anything vital, just was embedded at an angle in his shoulder.

He grinned. "Guess not… but you are."

She grimaced. Shit, she'd almost forgotten about that.

Trying to focus his vision on the face above him, he raised his had, her fingers releasing the cloth in her hand and pressing against his chest, back to the couch cushion.

"Stay down, just rest, I think you'll be okay…" she said, picking up the cloth and continuing to wipe away the blood.

He nodded. "I'll be just fine, just need to lie low… won't be much of a stretch, eh?"

She grinned. "Yeah."

He sighed, ache still present as he arched his back. "So… I think, I owe you. Big time?"

The smile on her face widened, eyes breaking from his and cast across the room as she laughed, slightly biting her lip. "Just a little bit."

That laugh just down right warmed his fucking heart. "Sorry to prolong my bullshit, honestly didn't have any intention of… getting _shot_ tonight," he muttered.

"I didn't think so," she replied.

He shook his head. "Just seems it's… always _something_, you know?"

She nodded. "It always is," she said, pressing the cloth hard to his skin, pulling a wince out of him when she cleaned near the wound.

He mumbled something she didn't catch. When she didn't respond, he asked, "You think I'll be alright?"

She nodded again. "Yeah, that guy wasn't a good shot, he got you in the shoulder but it's nothing I can't take care of here."

He grinned again. "You an old hand at this sort of thing?"

"Nah, I just have some basic medical training. I work in a pharmacy, _lots_ of old folks come through, better be prepared," she said, the sound of a smile coming out with her voice. He laughed a little. "I can't imagine this wound is different than another puncture injury, I should be able to figure it out."

He shook his head, closing his eyes as he lowered the back of his head to the armrest. "It's fine, I'll take care of it. Just give me… a few minutes, my entire fucking body is _sore_."

"Well, yeah, you just got shot, you'll be feeling pretty lousy for awhile."

"'Lousy.' Again, such a stretch for me," he said quietly, eyes opening and flittering towards the door he'd been pulled through, taking a second to look around.

The walls were plain white, the couch they were on accompanied by a recliner on the opposite wall, that recliner next to a small table with a lamp on it, another table in front of the couch coming into focus as his eyes extended further into the room. There was a medium sized television up against the wall across from them, dark screen framed with silver faced in their direction.

Seeming to realize at the same he did that the room remained dark, she extended her arm over him, his hand releasing from around it, the wet cloth left on his chest as she reached past the armrest to turn the switch of a light behind him. It blinked on, the amber bulb in it casting a dim, easy on the eyes light, bringing into pitch focus the color absorbed on her pale skin, noticing for the first time she had black rubbed around the corners of her eyes, a few lines extending down from the corners. Her hand returned over the cloth, squeezing it slightly to get water out, again starting to wash off flaking blood.

She looked down on him, his face a more true shade of pale than she'd seen when it was covered with makeup, scars looking worse in contrast, his hair only looking to be a mess of brown rather than the multi toned one she remembered. The corners of his eyes were still black, color unvarying from the shade on his irises that were returning the stare. Freckles still stood out from beneath the remainder of smudged makeup stained beneath his eyes.

He felt the wave of exhaustion pass over him suddenly, getting unwanted tiredness creeping up his back as he looked at her, his shoulders sinking down into the cushion. She broke the contact to look at the wound, hand resting the cloth on the opposite side of his chest as she leaned closer for a better look.

After a few seconds, she nodded. "It doesn't look that bad. I mean, going to the hospital would be ideal, but it's not a life or death situation." She let out a relieved sigh. "Good shit."

He nodded. "Last time I was shot they got me in the leg, quite a bit different than this."

"Yeah, much farther away from your heart than this current bullet," she said, eyes returning back to his.

"Agreed," he mumbled.

She stood up, leaving the wet cloth on his chest as she walked to the opposite side of the room, walking through a small doorway near the television, turning a corner and appearing on the opposite side of a window, opening up a cabinet and pulling down a white box. Right in his assumption that it was a first aid kit, he watched her place it on the table in front of the couch, taking another few steps forward until she stood above him, a dry cloth in her hand as she took the wet one from his chest and tossed it onto the ground. She bent down, starting to wipe away the water diluted blood off of him, eyes focused on the wound.

"I think you've got your basic tools to bandage that wound up in that kit there," she said, pointing her elbow in the direction of the box, flattening her hand over the cloth and moving it in a slow, circle motion. A small noise came from his throat as he nodded. "You need to rest for awhile. Do you mind if I take a shower?"

"Go ahead." He kept his eyes on her. "I won't bother you."

"I won't be that long, I just feel gross. Need to change my clothes and all that," she said, making a point of pulling a corner of her mouth into a grin, trying to be as reassuring as possible.

He nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

She looked at the shirt and vest pulled to his side, blood poured out over the blue shirt, beginning to soak through to the other side of the vest, bruised and broken skin over his chest and ribs still tinted from the blood she'd tried her best to wipe away. Luckily his pants were dark, the stains not showing so vividly above that fabric.

"Definitely need to invest in another blue shirt," she said, looking him in the eye, trying to get him to laugh.

She succeeded in getting a small grin. "Definitely."

"I'll be back in a few minutes, alright?"

He nodded. "I'll be here," he said, closing his eyes, resting his head down again.

Picking up the towels she'd used to clean the wound, she carried them with her to the opposite side of the room, opening the door to hers and tossing the bloody fabric into the hamper by her bed. Switching on the light there, she went through her drawers, grabbing a pair of tan denim pants and a plain black t-shirt before going into the bathroom, trying to be as quiet as possible as she locked the door. _Not like it matters if I lock the door or not, this flimsy shit wouldn't stand up against a firm kick._

He heard the faucet kick over, water running through the pipes in the walls towards the room he'd seen her enter, the sound proving to be a comfortable, dull rhythm to drift off too, his breathing steadying, becoming deeper over time. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes passed until he heard the water shut off and the door eventually open, eyes opening to watch as the girl came through the doorway dressed much different than how he'd met her, her long hair damp, brushed and hanging on her shoulders.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, crossing the room and sitting back down on the edge of the couch.

"Better," he said quietly.

"Do you want anything?"

He looked over towards the door she'd just come from. "I was thinking of copying you, taking a shower too. The heat would probably loosen up the bullet."

She nodded. "Yeah, true. I have another clean towel on the counter in there, feel free."

He sighed. "I don't even want to attempt trying to get up without help, would you mind?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, standing up and again bending over her, sliding her hand between the cushion and his back.

He stiffened his arms out to his side, pushing himself upwards, the girl keeping him steady. He swung his legs over the side of the couch, feet against the ground as he tried to stand himself up, a stabbing pain in his chest as he took a deep breath. He stood up, trying to walk but failing miserably at hit when he stumbled towards her, only irritating the wound more and pulling an angry cry from his mouth.

"Who the fuck just _shoots_ somebody," he muttered, having to balance on her outstretched arm.

"I know, that was pretty rude," she said, pulling him along as she had out of the car and up the stairs, curving around the table and heading towards the door to her room.

She turned on the faucet, steam still on the mirror as water showered down into the tub, pushing back the curtain as she looked back to him. He had almost folded an arm across his chest, trying to pull the bloodstained clothing off of him but stopped by the pain that stung through his body with every small movement he made. She stepped in front of him, casually taking his arm and pulling it towards her, flipping his wrist until the underside shown up to her, fingers again unfastening the row of buttons aligned there. When the fabric released, she moved to his other arm, repeating the steps until she could see the trail of another deep scar down his wrist.

He saw her notice that one, but she passed over it like she hadn't, her hands trailing up his arms and beginning to pull down the shirt, one hand moving to the collar and pulling it down. The steam from the shower filled the small space quickly, pressing against his back as he felt the shirt separate from his body, sliding off his arms and onto the ground, revealing the last remaining flecks of blood that clung to his body before he then felt the girl's hands toying with the button of his pants.

He started to laugh. "Thank you, but, I've got it from here," he said, words slipping between his curved lips as he put his hands on top of hers, pushing them away.

She started to blush, and he wanted to laugh again. Before she had taken more than a step away from him, he caught her on the arm, hand resting on the curve of her elbow.

"Thank you," he said, looking her in the eye, not letting go until she looked back.

She nodded her head, pulling away and walking out the door, shutting it behind her before she walked back into the main room, switching on the overhead light before hitting the button on the television, figuring she'd catch up on the news she'd seen him trying to follow over the day.

**…**

Kicking his shoes off and bending down painfully to pull off his socks before unfastening the second button on his pants, he unzipped the fly and pushed both the fabric of his pants and underwear down his legs before stepping out. Lifting one shaking leg before getting into the tub, he carefully put his weight down, feet joining each other in the small puddle of water that gathered by the drain. He pulled the curtain shut before aiming his face upwards, letting the water spray onto his face, down his neck and over his stinging chest.

He put his head under the stream of water, droplets rolling across his scalp and into his hair, warmer and cleaner than any of the water he'd gotten out of that shower in the shithole he called home, taking the time to rub the bar of soap pinned between his hand and chest hard. The hot water helped with the lather, getting a good amount of it in his hands before he started to scrub behind his neck and over his ears where the girl had tried to clean earlier. He grinned again, the randomness of that whole little thing still amusing to him, putting his head under the water again and letting it run down his back.

He grabbed the bottle of shampoo she'd left in the tub, opening it and squeezing out a fair amount before rubbing it between his hands and over his scalp, the last time he'd used anything but some dollar store crap been quite too long ago to remember. Taking the bar of soap and scrubbing it over his skin again, paying special attention to the wound, he rinsed under the water again, hand cranking the faucet to turn the water hotter. Heat began to sear down his skin, feeling surprisingly good as he began to scrub his face, knowing he hadn't done that superb of a job earlier in getting all the makeup off his face. He rubbed another handful of shampoo into his hair again, washing and rinsing it again before he turned the handle downwards, water shutting off as he pushed the curtain back and reached for the towel waiting for him on the counter.

Draping the towel over his head and vigorously rubbing his hair between the rough material, he dried his hair before moving down his neck, over his shoulders and down the side of his body blood had been dried to only minutes ago. Painfully bending his body to reach and slide on his pants, he again fastened the buttons, taking the towel in his hand and wiping away the steam on the window so he could take another look at the wound in his chest. The skin around the wound was a bright pink, turning red and concave in the center. He sighed, bringing his thumb and index finger up to the wound, poking the tip of his index into the wound, pain fresh and stinging through to his lungs as his body winced inwards, shoulders curling and bending him in half.

She heard a loud cry come from the bathroom, eyes ripped from the screen that broadcast images of the late Harvey Dent and thrown towards her bedroom, startled as she got up and rushed to the bathroom door. Pressing her ear against the door, she heard him yell again, hand wrapping around the door handle and cracking space between the wood, peaking in to see him throwing his hand down, a loud metal clink hitting the inside of the sink before he grabbed a roll of toilet paper and ripped off multiple sheets. He pressed the wad of tissue to his chest, a small circle of blood seeping through before his eyes were cast to the mirror again, visibly moving from his reflection to that of the opening door behind him, catching her eyes that she tried to remain hidden.

"Hi," he muttered, not breaking eye contact.

"Hi," she replied, peaking her head farther in, eyes momentarily drawn to the deep blotches over his back, bruises seeming to cover more of his body than his skin did. His pants were snug around his waist, bloodstains invisible in the dark fabric. She focused back on the face in the mirror. "Are you okay?"

He continued to look at the girl behind him without ever moving his head. "Yeah, just dug the goddamn bullet out… hurt like hell."

She pressed through the gap she'd made between the door and frame, his body turning in her direction as she stepped into the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" she asked, keeping her distance, unsure of what his answer would be.

He looked back at the mirror, taking another long stare at the wound on his chest, lifting up the wad of tissue to see how much had blood had picked up, another bit of relief going through him when the blotch left behind was smaller than he'd expected.

He nodded. "Yeah, just need to properly dress this and I'll go," he said, slowly leaning down to pick up his bloody clothes from the ground before facing her.

She didn't respond. Unsure of what he should do, he stood still, looking back at her.

"You don't have to leave," she said.

He shook his head. "No, I've caused you enough trouble, I need to go."

Hers shook as well. "No, it's not a good idea, they're looking for you… I don't even know what's going to happen when those men are found," she said quietly.

He licked his lips. "Mm, they were quite unpopular, that neighborhood seems to be infested with less than honorable characters. If cops come out for more than anything but the bodies, they'd never assume some _pharmacist_ was responsible."

Her irises wavered between his. "It's just risky. You're already hurt, you should try to keep it down to one gaping wound."

A laugh came up his throat. "Hah, yeah, speaking of which, that first aid kit does include a Band-Aid or two, yes?"

She grinned. "I'm sure. Let's check," she said, turning and scooting past the floor, him following her out, reaching his hand back to flip the light switch off before completely out of the room.

She lead him back to the couch, the room fully illuminated when they reentered, the bare walls paler than the dark had made them to look. He sat down, leaning gently back onto the sofa, eyes drawn to the flashing pictures on the television he hadn't noticed was on.

Sitting down next to him before opening the first aid kit, she took out a large bandage from the pack, handing it to him. "Here, this should be okay," she said.

He pealed off the adhesive strips of the bandage, preparing to lay it over the wound. "You think it needs any rubbing alcohol or something?"

She shook her head. "No, I think you're okay. You washed over it when you were in the shower, right?"

He nodded. "With soap."

"You're okay then, I think anything else but just soap and water would irritate the hell out of it."

He grinned, pressing the bandage over the wound. "Sounds good," he said, flattening his palm against the dressing, adhesive sticking further tight onto his skin, eyes falling back on the television.

"You hear about Harvey Dent?" he asked.

She nodded_. I have no idea where he's about to go with this… didn't he try to kill him? Or was that one of the other criminals he went after?_

His tongue dragged across the scar on his lower lip. "Too bad about him. He seemed alright."

"Yeah. Do you know what happened?"

"News said he fell a few stories. Apparently Batman's a murderer now."

He never did _kill_ anyone, now that she thought about it. Sometimes they were bloodied up, but it always ended with their hands tied behind their backs, waiting for the proper authorities to deal with them. She sighed. "That's crazy."

"You're telling me. I just had the man grab me from falling to my death and now they're trying to pin his biggest fan as a victim?" he scoffed. "No, _no_."

"Yeah, I don't really think he would kill somebody. He's never been the type."

_I guess now would be the time to tell him about the ferries._

"Did you hear about the ferries?"

He looked at her. "What, that they _didn't_ go up?"

She returned the gaze. "They did."

He stared at her silently, brows furrowing when the weight of those words settled. "What?" he asked, wanting to be sure he'd heard her right.

She nodded, images of the broadcast she'd seen minutes earlier stuck in her head, scraps of metal strewn out through the water and washing up on the shore. "They did. Both of them."

His jaw nearly hit the ground. "Are you fucking with me?"

"No! It'll probably be on the news again soon. They went up. How would _you_ not know? You were there."

He again scoffed. "I got the fucking_ detonator _knocked out of my hands before I got tossed off that _building_, didn't exactly have any time to press any button."

Her eyes widened. "Then… who the hell did?"

He felt a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, believe me, I wish I knew."

The two sat silently for a few seconds, both thinking over what the other had just said.

He began to laugh. "Now, that is just fucking epic. That is just beautiful." _Must've been a cop accidentally stepping on it and triggering the bombs. _If it had been one of the boats making a decision, there would've been some survivors still afloat.

He couldn't help but laugh again. "Mm, fantastic. Did the news say it was me?" he asked, eyes back on hers.

She nodded_. Of course_.

"Well, wouldn't be the first shit the media's lied about today," he muttered, pressing his palm against the bandage again, double checking to see if it stayed sealed. "You care if we share the bed again?"

She felt the grin that wanted to curve the corners of her mouth, but she kept it silenced, along with the laugh at how quickly he'd changed the subject. "Yeah, that's fine."

He nodded his head along with some inaudible rhythm again. "Cool. Do you mind if I crash, then?"

She shook hers. "Not at all. I was thinking of doing the same thing, after washing those clothes," she said, pointing to the bloody fabric that was bunched up on his knees.

He nibbled on the skin of his lip. "What about the towels?"

"Separately. I'm not trying to ruin your stuff."

He laughed, looking back down to the stained clothes in his lap. "It's fine, you couldn't fuck these clothes up more if you tried." He extended his arm out to her, carrying with it the dirty clothes. "I'm sorry I've pretty much made you wait on me."

She stood up, again shaking her head as she took the clothes from his hand. "It's okay, you're not. I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to."

He joined her in standing. "True. Thank you, though."

"No problem," she said, body turning towards the shut door in the corner of the room closest to them.

He caught her arm. "No, it is. Thank you."

She looked up at him. "It's fine."

He didn't want to try convincing her he meant what he said again. "Okay."

Releasing his fingers from around her arm, he moved around the table in the opposite direction, very slowly walking himself towards the room he'd just come from, not watching as she continued towards the shut door in front of her and opened up the washing machine that lie past it. When he'd managed to find a comfortable position to lie in, he heard the sound of water rushing, the lid shutting as he watched as lights in the adjoining room flipped off one by one.

She walked in, flipping down the switch of the light in that room as well, room still visible in the light cast from the lamp attached to the building. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight on the bed shift as she crawled in, lying down next to him and readjusting the pillow under her head.

Ahh, man. Much better than the floor…

_His eyes opened, mind fully awake, the sound of something he couldn't remember hearing echoing in his ears. Holding his breath, he strained to hear past the sound of someone next to him shifting on the sheets on the bed he lie on, almost convinced he could hear multiple thuds in the wall._

"_Honey?"_

_He heard it again, this time in four distinct knocks. Someone had started banging on the door. Lifting his heavy head and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he felt her hand rest on his shoulder._

"_I'll go get it," she said._

"_No… I don't know who it is, I'm not risking you going out there," he said, opening the drawer of the nightstand next to him, picking up the blade he kept hidden underneath the phonebook. He stood himself up, sliding up the pants he'd dressed down from and slowly approaching their closed bedroom door. He heard the sound of pounding on the door again._

_He opened their bedroom door, stepping out carefully into the hallway and inching down it, blade slid into his pocket as he pressed his eye to the small circle in the wood._

_He could see the figure of a man in a beat up leather jacket leaning against the door, balding head pointed down, the overhead light above the door casting a little glare off of the bare skin on the center of his scalp. The man looked up, his scruffy beard and the scar on the bridge of his nose confirming it was indeed Raymond. Raymond again knocked on the door, vision suddenly drawn to something he couldn't see from the opposite side of the door, fists banging against the door as he leaned in, mouth coming close to the wood._

"_White, open the fucking door!" he heard Raymond yell, very briefly looking over his shoulder to see his wife standing behind him, hands reaching out to hold his arm._

"_Who is it?" she whispered._

"_Raymond," he said, looking through the hole in the door to see him now leaning against the door again, hand folding into a fist that rocked the door as it came down several times, her eyes going wide in the recognition of the name._

"_Raymond? What's he want?"_

_He grimaced. "First half of the month's rent… shit, I _knew_ it was supposed to be ready today."_

_She shook her head. "Just open the door, he's just going to bitch at you for being late before going away, he sounds like he's drunk again anyways."_

_He shrugged. "I guess. Go check on the boy, alright?" he said, motioning his hand to the end of the hallway they stood opposite from, finger pointed to the room that sat to the left of their bedroom. "Don't want him to wake up when he starts going crazy," he muttered, other hand now pointed to the door he prepared to open._

_He waited until the overhead bulb in their son's room switched on, the door slowly closing shut blocking all but a thin line of light from casting on the wall across from it. He sighed, unlocking the dead bolt and switch on the handle before he opened the door, Raymond nearly falling forward when the door came out from under his arms._

_"Hey," he said, smiling so he didn't seem angry he was woken up at one in the morning when he had to get up in five hours for work._

_Raymond stared blankly at him, his brows furrowed, his eyes starting to beam off anger as he straightened his posture. "What the hell took you so long."_

_"I was asleep, I'm sorry. What is it?"_

_He scoffed. "'Asleep'? With the wife?"_

_He nodded. "What can I do for you?"_

_"Well," he said, extending his arm and folding it so he could lean against the doorway, "you can start by explaining why there wasn't any rent in my mailbox today."_

_He sighed. "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. I had to take the kid to the hospital. He was screaming and crying all last night and I ended up sitting in a clinic all day to get seen for five minutes. I missed work too, I gotta go in this morning and try to work things out with them."_

_Raymond shook his head, eyes closing as an aggravated growl came from him._

_"I see. And, ah, the wife?"_

_He blinked. "What about her?"_

_He grinned. "So, she's doing it behind your back again."_

_"The hell are you talking about."_

_He laughed. "Sweetheart owes me some money, too. She lost two hundred gambling with my fucking cash."_

_He sighed, eyes rolling as he shook his head. Goddamn it, not again with the fucking gambling. She'd already gotten them so far in debt with that shit and the last thing he needed was for her to be losing his_ landlord's _cash._

_He frowned. "Shit, I didn't know. If it makes any difference, I'm about to start working quite a bit of overtime, I can get it back to you by next month if all goes right."_

_Raymond laughed again. "No, it doesn't." He lowered his head again, this time raising it with a look in his eye he'd never seen before. His blue eyes shown out over the blood red the whites had become, mouth curving into a smile as he opened his palm, smacking it against the door and pushing it farther open._

_"You mind if I come in for a minute? I need to talk to her."_

_He felt his blood beginning to boil. He didn't know what the fuck Raymond was on, but whatever he was trying to pull, shit was going no further than here. "No, she's sleeping."_

_He used the full weight of his body to push past the door, knocking him against the wall as Raymond barged in, slamming the door behind him and locking it, grin pulling across his face._

_"It'll just be a minute, I'll go slow," he muttered, flipping the hallway light on, his eyes set upon the closed door at the corner, shoving him against the wall with both hands as he stepped forward._

_He pulled the blade out from behind his back, throwing a right cross into Raymond's face, knocking him against the wall._

_"You listen to me, you son of a bitch," he hissed, knife aimed at Raymond. "I told you what the fuck's going on, you know I always get our bills paid, you don't come into my house at one o'clock in the fucking morning and threaten my wife."_

_He smiled, sending a left hook into his jaw, knocking him against the wall behind him and grabbing the blade that fell to the ground. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, hands wrapping around his as Raymond lifted him up to the point where his feet dangled, nearly choking as words were barked into his face._

_"The cunt owes me two hundred, she doesn't need you to fight her battles, son," he said, laughing as he released him, shoved off balance as Raymond threw a fist into his shoulder. "It's noble of ya and everything but it makes you look like a pussy."_

_The sound of a door cracking open caught both men's attention, seeing as his wife stood peaking out, her eyes wide as she stared at his fallen figure, jaw dropping as she made eye contact with Raymond before running across the hallway and into the kitchen._

_He looked up to see the frown that sunk into Raymond's face, his eyes burning again with rage as he called out her name._

_"What are you doing, bitch?!" he growled, stepping over his tenant and stomping into the kitchen, the sound of a drawer opening and contents being scattered making his heart skip a beat as he raced to his feet._

_The sound of the infant crying in the next room only moving his feet faster, he threw himself into the kitchen, the scream that tore out from his wife heard before he saw her cornered behind the kitchen table. He saw she held a kitchen knife in her hands, aimed towards Raymond as he continued to approach her._

_Oh, Christ. Big fucking mistake…Raymond would easily snap her neck if she took any sort of swing at him._

_He was right. Watching as she made one fast, jagged motion with the tip of the knife aiming for his chest, Raymond screamed at her, grabbing her wrist, the knife in her hand dropping to the floor. Before Raymond could reach down for the knife, he ran across the room, leaping onto the larger man and pulling him backwards, nearly down to the floor as he scraped at his leather jacket, fingernails ripping lines in it as he slammed another fist across Raymond's face._

_He knew this was a stupid idea, to try and fight against Raymond; he had at least fifty pounds on him, but he'd crossed the line. His thoughts validated, he felt as Raymond balled up the fabric of his shirt again, grabbing him and turning him in the direction of the closest wall, bending his body as he hurled him towards it, head and neck cracking as he hit the wall. The pain that shot through him was so great it choked the scream that had jumped up from his lungs, the world becoming dark as he lost his balance, body slamming roughly against the ground as he heard his wife scream again._

_Eyes cracking open, the light on in the hallway casting a dim glow into the kitchen that seemed searing white as his vision returned, the blurred view of Raymond again cornering his wife coming into blinding focus as he felt his muscles jolt, trying desperately to pull himself from the ground. He could barely put his hands to the ground, the burning heat that started to engulf his head stifling even the most basic of breaths, limbs twitching violently as he tried to scream._

_"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" he screamed, the kitchen knife she'd dropped now in his hands and at her throat._

_The crying child became louder in his aching head, body again trying desperately to push itself up._

_He could hear the tears in her voice. "I'm so sorry, please don't hurt him, please don't…" her shaking voice tearing a hole through his chest, teeth grinding together as the throbbing in his head began to extend to his neck and shoulders._

_Raymond laughed. "'Please don't' _what_?" he mocked into her face._

_"Please don't hurt us, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry just please don't hurt him," she cried, his fading vision able to see the shining specks falling down her cheeks._

_"We're past that point, bitch. He thinks he needs to fight for you. You can't take care of yourself? How old are you now?"_

_She continued to cry. "Please don't," she repeated, eyes pouring tears, voice shaking with every plea._

_Another goddamn laugh, the sound of the crying infant finally reaching his ears as he repositioned the blade on her face, digging deeply into her flesh before dragging the jagged kitchen knife across her cheeks as she screamed._

_The sound that came from her then fell farther past his ears, that pitch alone bringing him out of the fog of the shrieking pain coursing through his body, a cry passing through his lips as tears began to boil in the corner of his eyes, mouth nearly biting the ground as he watch Raymond make gash after gash over her face. Each slice pulled a terrifying scream from her, the baby only more frightened and crying louder as the burning tears spilled out onto his cheeks, the blood that began to pour from her bringing into focus his that was smudged over the ground he lie on._

_Heart stopping as his wife fell momentarily silent, her sob wrenched through him as he watched her curl up into a ball, another cry ripping out her throat as she lie on the same ground he did, the laughter that came from Raymond finally audible to his ears. Eyes lifting from his wife to Raymond, he watched as he turned around, making eye contact with the fallen tenant as another smile spread across his face, the bloody knife still held tightly in his hands, the red drops that fell to the ground reminiscent of the tears that still slid down his cheeks._

_His eyes widened. "Why so _serious_?"_

_He stared wordlessly, another sob from his cut up wife piercing through him._

_He took steps towards him, knife pointing towards him as he raised his brows. "_Why_ so _serious_?"_

_Watching as he knelt down next to him, his hooked fingers yanked his jaw open, the blade now digging deep into his cheek, already feeling the teeth breaking his skin._

_"Let's put a _smile_ on that face."_

His eyes snapped open, breath caught in his chest, the phantom sting that still hung in the pattern of his scars ringing fresh as ever. His irises darted frantically around the room, lit by the pale, blue light of the morning that sunk in from outside, more of the room having a small glow to it than not. He turned his head to the side, seeing the frame of the girl curled away from him, asleep on her side beneath the comforter he rest above, a thick, white blanket pulled up to his chin. Turning his head back towards the blue lines let in across the window, he squinted to see a chair that had been pulled up close to his side of the bed, like someone had been sitting it in and talking to him.

The way his heart sped up tensed the still sensitive wound in his chest, a small pain squeezing it's way through his shoulder as he looked closer, curious to see what looked like a pile of clothing. He reached his hand out, fingertips brushing against thin plastic over what felt like starch fabric, the familiar fabric like several of his shirts. Easing the pile into the curve of his hand, he lifted it and brought it to his chest, resting all but one article of clothing in the space between the girl and him.

He'd been right in thinking it was a shirt. He held a blue button up in his hands, still wrapped in plastic from wherever it'd been bought, a cardboard lining still around the collar that he could easily of removed with the flick of his fingers. Looking at the shirt's small patterns, he grinned when he saw the shapes formed over this fabric were nearly identical to the one he'd bled into earlier. Resting the wrapped blue shirt down, he saw under it had been his green vest, surprisingly no bloodstain visible on the outside of it. His socks were folded there too.

_Well, shit. Someone wasn't tired._

* * *

alright, I kept this chapter from being ridiculously long.. just keep chugging along, glad to hear you guys are enjoying the story, it definitely makes me want to write it more. -p.


	5. Chapter 4

Trying to push himself upwards so he could see the clothing at a better angle, he bumped his back into the headboard, the top of it colliding with the soft spot of his skull. His eyes squeezed shut, a whispered "ow…" drowned out by the sound of wood clunking against the wall. She began to move, legs unwinding downwards as she rolled over, her palms pressed down to the mattress.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked, voice still in a stupor of sleep.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You got me a shirt?"

"Yeah," she nodded, eyes heavy with sleep. "Thank god for all night warehouse stores."

_She walked lazily through the aisle, looking through a table with an assortment of wrapped shirts in front of her, the line of nice men's clothing hanging on the circular racks around her, having located where these damn shirts were but now facing the problem of picking the right color._

_Crap, should've brought that ripped up shirt he was wearing. A smiled curled her lips, almost laughing when she gave herself the visual of some chick wandering around a store at 3am with a bloody shirt_. Well, good thing you didn't, that would've looked _pretty_ bad.

_Green button up, white button up, black button up… solid colors, ah, hell. She was at least going to need a blue. Trailing down the row of shirts, a dark blue shirt caught her attention. She picked it up, bringing it close to her face to better see the thin, light pinstripes that stretched out over the fabric behind the small, hexagon design she recognized from the prior shirt._

_Close enough. She flipped over the back of the package to find the price tag._

_$45.99._

_Shit! For a shirt?_

He grinned, head slowly nodding. "That was nice of you, I'm sure it wasn't cheap."

"It's alright. You needed one."

"Still nonetheless nice of you."

"Thanks."

"No need to thank me. I'm going to be honest and wonder why the hell haven't you kicked me out of here yet."

She gently shrugged one of her shoulders. "Eh, I'm tired, you were shot. It's not a big deal. Just stay until you feel good enough to go, I have to get up for work in awhile."

"I'm just asking for an answer."

She shook her head. "Dunno one."

"Why not."

Shrugging her shoulders again, she yawned, grin across her face as she tilted her head. "You put a knife up to my throat, I'm just rolling with it."

He laughed a little bit, purely because he couldn't tell if that was sarcasm or the real thing. "It's weird to me."

She laughed then. "Hah, it's weird to _you_?"

"Yeah, believe it or not. I haven't been in such a furnished home in years," he said, eyes scanning around the walls bare of paint or any kind of decoration, virtually no sign anyone really lived here except for two pairs of shoes that were pushed near the open door.

"I'm not here that much, I just work, so if you were wondering why it looks kind of sketchy…"

He shook his head. "No, it doesn't. I wasn't trying to start shit, just saying, usually I'm in a basement or a butcher's," he muttered.

"Or a cell," she quietly added.

"Mhmm." He felt nerves beginning to rise, coming close to standing on end as he looked back to her. "So, thank you."

"It's not a problem."

"No, it is. This whole thing has been dragged out for way too long, I'm sure you're looking forward to it ending."

Breaking eye contact to look down to the carpeted floor, she wasn't sure what to say. The truth? Yes_, fuck_ yes she'd be happy when this would end. She knew it'd been too good to be true to survived the night, to have held a normal conversation with the man she was sure was going to kill her before almost being home free, tripping on the last step when those drunks had started shit with him. Now a murderer herself, shit.

She sighed. "Yeah, a little."

He nodded. "Understood. Would you believe me if I said I'm sorry?"

Her eyes further held to the ground. "I already got your answer to that."

"_That's right, I'm not."_ "Mm, not for _that_, specifically."

"Then what?"

"For getting you involved. You didn't have to kill those men."

It always seemed he knew what she was thinking. "I don't care."

"Honestly?"

She nodded. "It was only about to get worse."

He shrugged. "I don't know about that, actually. They would've called the cops, they would have booked me. Even if you decided to stick around, you wouldn't have been charged with anything."

She slowly blinked. "I don't need anyone to know."

_Very good point._ "Understood."

"It's so embarrassing. Everyone finds out one way or another… they talk about it, they talk about you, they wonder what _you_ did. And…" she stopped, nearly having to clap her hand over her mouth to hold back the last word back so she didn't say it.

He turned his head towards her. "'And'?"

Watching as she swallowed past something in her throat, she took a deep breath before her waveiring eyes looked to his. "And you?"

"What about me?"

She sighed. "You being all over the news guarantees this wouldn't stay quiet. It would be everywhere."

He looked away, eyes drifting to the doorway. "True. Well, don't worry, I won't be bragging about it."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure."

He felt a grin tug on the corner of his mouth. "We sound discouraged."

She shut her lids. "I'm tired, I feel like I got run over by a car, I'm hungry, I keep thinking about how much trouble I'm about to get into, just, shit. I guess you can say I am."

This was certainly a different type of complaint to him than usual. "If it makes you feel any better, I feel like I got shot."

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude, I'm just stressed out," she said, adjusting her head on the pillow, eyes still shut.

"You have no reason to be sorry. You sound like you've done this before."

She shrugged. "All but shoot someone before."

"Yeah. Sounds like everyone found out, too."

She sighed again, shoulders tensing as her arms folded inwards. "Police reports will do that."

He nodded. "Did they catch him?"

She shook her head. "Not a surprise they didn't, though."

"Yeah. They didn't catch, uh…" the last dragged out syllable opening her eyes, looking over her shoulder to see him pointing to the corner of his mouth, "this one, either."

"I knew who they were, no one's just been able to catch them."

He nodded again. "Same. People didn't believe me."

"Me neither. It was just, like, how could _he_ do that, nobody could imagine _him_ doing it, I must be wrong, all that bullshit."

"Uh huh. Why the scratches?"

Her eyes opened, focusing on the dresser in front of her, those annoying, burning tears again trying to pass over her lids. "What about yours? Why the fuck do you think they did it to you."

He sighed. "Apparently just to fuck with me. I hadn't done anything wrong."

She nodded. "He kept trying to pry my legs apart, when he couldn't make me he got the blade out of his jacket and jammed it between 'em. Did it quite a few times."

He thought over the specific curves of the scars, their depth, the scenario she'd explained making sense as he looked towards her, her arms folded tightly across her chest, frame looking even smaller. Unsure of what else to do, he reached his hand out, his palm barely touching her shoulder before she pulled away from him.

"Don't fucking touch me. Just get your shit together and go."

"You don't want to know how I got these?"

She scoffed. "Whatever happened…" she slowly said, eyes welling up before tears spilled out, "you fucking deserved it."

Without hesitation he felt the muscles in his hands switch, pulling her raised shoulder down to the mattress, her back pressed to it as he brought a hand swiftly across her face, snapping his wrist as he did it. He heard her gasp, the hard flesh of his hand digging into the soft mound of her cheek, crying out as he snatched a fistful of hair and yanked her forward, red eyes staring cold back at him.

"You don't know a fucking thing about me," he growled, voice deep.

"Who's fault is that," she said, her returned glare nearly overpowering his. "I'm glad I don't."

Twisting her hair tighter in his hands, nearly pulling it off the scalp, he came closer to her face. "Yeah? Well, you apparently think you know me well enough to tell me I fucking _deserved_ something."

"From what I've seen you do in the past few days you deserve whatever's come to you, past _and_ present," she said, not giving him a moment to respond before she spit in his face.

Feeling as saliva rolled down his cheek, his stomach turning, he shoved her backwards, her arms flailing to catch her fall as she hit the bed. A laugh came from his throat again, the smile that always spread across his face making an appearance before his hand began to toy with the button of his pants.

"Mm, I'm sure. I'm sure you mean every word," he said, taking a step forward before she tried to swing her legs to the side of the bed, limbs shaking like they had not so long ago.

Before she could get up, he reached out and grabbed her arm, another cry from her as he kneeled down to the mattress, pinning her between sheets and his warm body. Her arms wrapped around him again, his bare skin feeling the fingernails that bit into him, shouting nothing but a handful of syllables to him as he slid his hand into his back pocket. He gripped the knife, pulling it out and flipping open as he again brought it to her neck.

The dread in her stomach was like a ball of ice, every movement she saw him make scaring her, teeth almost chattering when the blade returned to her throat. Feeling the metal indenting her skin, it split under the pressure he inflicted, blood welling and making her neck slick in his hand. She felt as his free hand clutched the back of her shirt, roughly yanking it upwards and over her head, his bare skin bruising hers as he kept her pinned, tossing the shirt off to a dark side of the room.

She panted, his hand now running over her ribcage, fingers straightening and slipping under the cup of her bra, his palm pressed against the soft curve of tissue. Starting to massage it, he pressed his forehead to hers, forcing eye contact.

He said nothing. He thought he'd be spitting something back at her by now, but he couldn't do anything but try to burrow his gaze in her sockets, not caring if she might see just how much this bullshit was starting to get to him.

_Takes two in the game of talking shit_. "Guess you mean it just as much as I meant it when I said I wouldn't be fucking you again."

Her hands curled into fists, pounding against his chest as she tried to wriggle out from under him, spit still on his cheek. The knife to her throat dug farther in, the slicing pain silencing her cries as he firmly pushed against her chest, the back of her head colliding roughly with the board above the bed as he held her further against the mattress.

He grinned as her eyes squeezed shut, acutely watching the pain spread through her, all but feeling the ache that was settling into the back of her eyes. The coughs that came from her shook him, eyes opening to resume the glare, her knees thrusting upwards to hit his hips and abdomen as his hand clawed into her scalp, knife remaining in her throat as she tried to scream again, barely a breath passing between her lips.

Sliding his hand between their bodies, he further pushed the fabric at his waist downwards, past his knees before his fingers were on her again, unfastening the button at her pants. He dropped the knife down the mattress, blood blotting on the sheets as his hands joined at her waist, pulling away the remainder of the clothing on her body before his knees again pried hers apart.

Her heart pounded so hard through her tiny frame it was making her sick, nausea rising in her throat as his lips caught hers, feeling something brushing on the inside of her thigh but too afraid to look. Blood beaded and slipped down the curve of her neck, the warmth fading within seconds of the trails reaching out, her eyes reluctantly sliding shut as the angle of his kiss deepened, the tongue in her mouth warm and persistent in getting a response from her.

Moving his hand down over her shoulder, he grabbed the knife he had dropped on the mattress, arching his body upwards as he brought the blade to the inside of her thigh, automatically splitting the skin as he pressed the blade into it. He'd gotten a stifled gasp from her before another outburst, a muffled scream passing through her mouth as heat into his, her mouth breaking from his as her eyes darted to the space between them, widening and tears again welling before returning his stare.

"The next time you think about making another little _comment_ like that, refer to the reminder."

He slapped his hand over her mouth, digging the knife into her leg as she again screamed, the heat of her mouth now burning into his palm as he drug the blade deep across her skin, watching as it split so easily. He could feel her teeth scrapping his hand, successfully and painfully pinching his palm before he removed his hand from her mouth, only to slap her again and return the hand to it's prior arrangement.

Goddamn it… she'd almost heard the precise sound of skin ripping before the pain had even struck her, accompanied by the blood that gushed out, warmth continuous fading into cold as she felt the blade now digging into her other thigh. Her stomach was flipping in every uncomfortable direction she could've ever imagined, shaking as she tried to call out words from beneath his hand.

He could hear her trying desperately to say something to him. He almost wanted to grin. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

He lifted his hand just enough so she could speak. "Stop… please, stop."

He couldn't help but grin now. Shifting the blade into a sharper angle on the inside of her thigh, pushing down harder pressure, he licked his lips. "How come?"

She started shaking her head. "Just please, stop. It fucking hurts."

The smile faded off his face. "Yeah? It 'fucking hurts'? Does it remind you of when it happened before?"

She nodded, eyes squeezing shut as he slowly drug the blade into her skin.

"Does it come back like it's happening again, frame by frame play? Does it choke you?"

He pressed his head against hers again, his bobbing along with hers as she nodded yes, a small sob slipping past her cracked lips as warm tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes.

"Did it take you years to finally forget it?"

She very slowly shook her head, lids parting and releasing those familiar tears. "I never did."

"Mhmm," he nodded, "and would you ever believe you deserved it? You deserved getting cut up and scarred and losing every fucking bit of normality you ever had?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think before I said…"

"I don't want to hear your fucking bullshit for an excuse, you thought plenty before saying it, it just took you awhile to get any courage to talk back to me."

_He's right_. "I'm sorry."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, in the spirit of proving a point, I'm going to stick with my earlier status of _not_ fucking you." He straightened his back, still towering over her as he looked down. "I don't lie. I might be a fucking criminal but at least I've got conviction."

He slid to the side of the bed he'd been on, putting a foot down to the floor and standing himself up as he refitted the clothing at his waist.

_Criminal, conviction_. "Hah. No pun intended," he muttered, picking up and ripping open the plastic the new shirt was wrapped in and letting it fall to the ground as he unfolded the fabric, carefully unbuttoning it until it fell open. He slid his arms into the sleeves, hands gathering at his waist and trailing upwards, fastening the dark buttons until they formed a dotted line, fingers then popping the collar and removing the slides of cardboard. He moved his body carefully around the clothing, trying like hell not to irritate the wound in his chest.

He turned his head towards her, the continuously rising sun slowing lighting the room, her body still, neck and head against the board behind her, the skin of the inside of her thighs smeared with blood, the shape of fingers scattered over the remainder of her legs. She was breathing, so he knew he that wound hadn't killed her; he could see her ribcage rising and falling gently. Her arms were at her sides, eyes staring tiredly upwards, mouth open slightly. He reached forward to the chair, picking up the green vest she'd tried to wash the bloodstains out of and sliding it over his back, fingers again toying with buttons before looking back at her. Digging his hands into his pockets, he made sure the cell phone he nearly always kept switched off was still there, feeling an assortment of knives and his cigarette case before getting to the phone, eyes never taken off of her.

"I'll be going now," he said, her lids blinking before irises fixed themselves on him.

Taking a last, long look at her, he passed through the doorway, stepping out into the dimly lit room, curving past the television and through the entrance. Leaving the front door locked as he shut it behind him, he sped down the stairway, arms aching as his hand returned to his pocket for the phone, turning it on as he stepped past the last two stairs, crossing over the grass lawn and rock clusters to get to the sidewalk in front of the building. Looking down to his phone as he headed down the street, he flipped it open, dialing the emergency contact he had for these sorts of times before ducking into a bus waiting area, face protected by the thin walls that held up advertisements on both sides of him.

_I didn't bring the scarf. Shit. Oh, wait… I don't even have that shit anymore, the bastard ripped it off me._ He grinned, amused at having already so soon forgotten that tiny event that happened earlier. He brought the phone to his ear, listening to the sound of three rings before the phone was picked up, fingers scrambling to grip the phone and bring it upwards, a tired voice on the other end barely forming the letter "J?"

"Yeah, hi. You free?" he asked, eyes watching intently as a car drove past him, turning his face forwards the corner of the waiting area.

"Yeah man, I was just sleeping. Are you okay?"

"Why, what'd you hear?"

"Nothing man, where are you? I'll come get you."

"Yeah, that's what I was calling for."

"No problem, where you at?"

His eyes peered out towards the empty streets in front of him, lamps lining the road starting to switch off as the sky further brightened. "I've got no idea, to be honest…" he said, starting to walk towards a street sign he could see in the distance. "I'm heading towards an intersection right now."

"Alright, good. So while we're waiting, where the hell have you been, man?!" his friend laughed into the phone.

He smiled, a small chuckle in his throat. "I got into some trouble last night, and the night before that."

"Yeah, I saw that. You okay, though?"

"Yeah, nothing I couldn't handle." He stopped in front of the sign, reading the uppercase white letters against blue slides of the two crossing streets to his friend, the sound of clicking keys audible over the phone.

A few seconds of silence passed before his friend laughed again, electronic buzzing he recognized as a printer spitting something out of the machine. "Shit! According to this map, you're in some residential forty six miles south of Gotham."

His eyes widened, suddenly noticing in the fully risen sun's light the vegetation that grew around him, bushes and trees validating the map's search. _You don't get that shit in Gotham_. "Yeah, I'm not surprised."

He then heard the sound of car keys and a doorknob jiggling, followed by a shutting door and shoes scrapping against cement. "Sit tight, I'm on my way. I'll be in a black pick up this time."

"Alright, thank you. You always get me out of these tight spots."

He laughed again, keys again jingling as he opened and shut a car door, ignition turning over. "It's all good, I'll see you soon."

He flipped his phone shut, sliding it into his pocket as he walked back towards the bus waiting area, hearing as another car from a distance was heading towards him, inconspicuously running his hands over his cheeks as the car passed him.

_Fifty miles… eh, that's a bit of time. _He sat down at the bench, the metal made cold by the overnight air, his fingers slipping back into his pocket to pin his cigarette case between them, followed by his lighter that lit the cigarette he placed on his lips, inhaling the smoke that hung in his lungs. Watching the red sparks that gathered inches from his face, another car passed by, his bent figure unnoticed.

A breeze lightly passed down the road he waited on, the tail end of it brushing the insides of his arms, the air finally registering cold as bumps formed over his skin. Looking down to his arms, expecting to pull his jacket up farther towards his mouth, he was a little surprised to then realize he hadn't taken his jacket, still hanging from the handle of the door to the girl's bathroom.

He smiled, one of the warmer laughs he'd felt in the past few months coming up through his throat, smoke curling past his nose as he opened his mouth. "_Shit_."  
**  
**

**…**

She lie on her side, the morning sun blaring down into the room, everything given an orange glow as she stared at the bathroom door, unable to rest as soon as he'd woken her up and now even more unsettled to see his jacket hanging there still, the purple fabric illuminated by the lines of light on the wall created by the blinds behind her. The stinging fresh wound hurt her too much to get up, too much to even limp into the next room to get the first aid kit she knew was on the table in front of the couch. At that point, she didn't really care if she was about to bleed out, die of infection, whatever… as long as this nightmare would end, she didn't care how.

He was gone now, but she was still too scared to speak, even flinch. She'd almost been able to fall asleep before she'd rolled onto her side, eyes meeting the jacket and again widening, mind shocked into full consciousness. She didn't want to call the police. Nobody would believe this shit, and even if they did, god… she didn't want to be _known_ for this. There was no way such a story could be kept private, not even by a long spot. She didn't want to go to the hospital, there was no way any sensible doctor would let her leave in the condition she was in.

She sighed, her heavy lids sliding shut as she again rest her head on the pillow, body exhausted but mind ever racing.

**…**

The remainder of his third cigarette falling into ash, he watched as an expected black truck pulled up in front of him, nervous for a moment as the vehicle came down the road that it may be the bus he had to hide from again. He pushed off the bench, warm now from him sitting there for so long, taking quick steps forward as cars passed by again, flicking the butt of the cigarette into the street before briefly catching his reflection in the tinted windows.

He had three ascending cuts high on his left cheek, now lined in dark scabs. The others were as noticeable as ever, the hair standing up on his neck as he thought of anyone in a passing car calling this sighting in. He pulled the door open, hopping in and closing it behind him as he looked forward, sighing as he reached over and clicked his seatbelt on, eyes glancing over to the driver.

His friend peered back at him, cigarette hanging in his mouth burning into ash, not having to continue his stare to know his eyes were on his scars. He wanted to roll his eyes, but instead he focused on the road in front of them, his friend pressing his foot onto the gas pedal and pulling back onto the road.

"So, what's the special occasion?" his friend asked, pale hands extending past his black jacket, knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. Turning his head to the driver, he watched as he pointed to the corners of his mouth.

_Why no makeup_. "Mm, got some new ones," he mumbled, trailing the fresh scratches with his index finger. "Figured I wouldn't let them get infected."

"Good decision. Just," his friend began to laugh, "you look so different without the makeup. I can barely recognize you, man."

He grinned a little. "Good. It's a change of pace."

His friend turned his head towards him, noticing at the same time he remembered he was without one specific article of clothing.

"Where's your jacket at?" he asked, taking the cigarette out of his mouth as he exhaled it towards the windshield, smoke breaking smoothly against the glass.

_The girl's. Ahh, that poor kid_. He might as well have just told her to not sleep for the rest of the year, probably would've been easier than her finding out over the next fifty or so weeks that she can't anymore. He smiled, the dull ache from the wound on his chest reminding of him of how he was so goddamn flimsy he couldn't get his clothes off by himself, how hard she had started blushing when he'd pried her fingers away from unbuttoning his pants.

"J?"

Snapping back to reality, he looked to his left. "Hm?"

"Your jacket? What happened to it?"

"I forgot it… somewhere," he replied, unsure of where he should have said he'd disappeared to for all this time.

His friend laughed again. "Where at, a girl's?"

His grin pulled wider across his face. "If you must know, yeah."

"Hah! Who the fuck let you in their bed, especially after your ass is all over the news?"

"You tell me, I never got her name."

He laughed harder. "You dog. Was it good?"

"Ohh," he trailed off, dragging the "h" as he looked out the window to his side, watching as the car curved to the right, turning at an intersection to approach a freeway onramp. "Much better than that."

"Was she hot?"

"_You really are so fucking beautiful… I can't fathom this is the first time you've heard that… you're blushing like it is, though."_

"Beautiful," he said quietly.

"Yeah? Big tits, nice ass?"

A small rumble of a laugh was caught in his throat, his grin restating itself across his mouth. "Long hair, long legs, beautiful skin, nice ass. No on the tits," he said, the last handful of words said past the cigarette he put in his mouth, lighting it as he heard his friend's voice.

"Ahh, sounds nice nonetheless, man. Blonde?"

He nodded. "Pretty thin. Very nice girl."

"No offense, but, I wonder what the hell she was thinking. She see you in the makeup?"

Mm, for whatever reason he was suddenly disinterested in continuing the conversation. His eyes focused on the freeway traffic that was now around them. "Yeah."

"That's crazy, she knew it was you and she still went for it. How fucking hot, you get her number?"

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't get so much as her name, how the hell would I have her number?"

"Yeah, true. You ever gonna go back for your jacket?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Not like it's irreplaceable or something. I think I've caused her enough trouble."

A chuckle began to creep from the driver's throat. "Haha, why, she too sore to get up today?"

A smile pulled across his face. "You have no idea."

**…**

She sat quietly at her station, staring forward as she shifted her legs, the rough material of the chair she sat on holding the fabric of her skirt still, the bandaged wound on her thigh brushing against the black tights she wore. Arms clothed in a white jacket were folded beneath her, her eyes fixed on the computer screen in front of her, her reflection dimly cast on the screen from the fluorescent lighting above her, giving everything around her a sickly pale tint to it. It was dark outside, maybe around eleven if she was right about how much time had passed between the prior check she'd done.

Eyes glancing up to the clock above the drive thru window, she saw it was 11:22. She had another three and half hours to go. She yawned, her eyes heavy and sore from the sleeplessness she'd obtained this morning. She figured she'd be tired enough to fall asleep when she got home later, so she'd take the tired bullshit wearing her body down for now. Her neck itchy again, she scratched her fingernails against the thin scarf she'd wrapped around her neck to cover up the wounds notched over her throat.

_Recognizing her name, she looked to her right, her boss coming from her office towards her as she was filling an order._

"_Yeah?" she replied, screwing a cap onto the full bottle in her hand._

"_How did you wear that scarf today? It was so hot!" she laughed, passing her and going to the computer at the other end of the room, typing in her access code._

"_It's pretty good in here, with the air conditioning and all," she said, trying to force a grin on her face. "The guy at the register said it was a handkerchief," she laughed._

"_Oh, I know it is, I'm just saying it must've been so warm! I like it, where did you get it?"_

"_Uhm… I got it from one of those carts at the mall downtown, you know which one I'm talking about?"_

"_Yeah, the one with blue floors?"_

"_Yeah. They were with a bunch of sunglasses, watches, random stuff. I liked the color."_

_Her boss looked back at her. "Oh, yeah, I do too, it's such a rich purple. Are all the colors that deep?"_

_She nodded. "Mhmm. Red, blue, yellow, green, designs, lots of interesting stuff."_

"_Sounds awesome. The one your wearing looks really nice on your skin, against your hair and everything."_

_She felt her face going red. "Thank you," she said, returning to filling orders._

"_Yeah, it matches that jacket you wore today, too."_

Her eyes slowly trailed the wall to her left, to the coat rack that held up the jacket she'd stared at for the remainder of her morning. She felt stupid for wearing it, like some idiot for doing anything but burning the goddamn thing, but she couldn't help sliding into it before she'd left for work. She'd brought down a blanket with her to cover the bloodstains he'd left in the seat of her car, covering it seamlessly along with a few random books she'd tossed in to make it look less obvious. She sighed, a small grin on her face as she shook her head.

_Stupid, stupid_.

Again she heard her name. Turning her head to look over her shoulder, she saw her boss approaching her desk, a stack of paperwork and clipboards slid under her arm.

"Hey," she replied.

"We got somebody out by the register. Can you get ring 'em up for me?"

"Yeah, for sure," she said, slowly getting up from the chair and walking into the open space of the store's pharmacy section, the aisles of various items extending far across the corner of the store, two cash registers in front of her, the drive thru window at an angle behind her.

She stood behind a cash register, peering out into the aisles. This side of the store looked to be empty. She could hear the music being played overheard, an announcement about whatever else was on sale over it, her head turning upwards to look at the screens playing various security camera footage. Not one person…

"Hello there."

She looked down to the space in front of her, nearly jumping backwards when the features of the man in front of her clicked, scarred face again bare of makeup smiling back. His brown eyes blinked, shrugging shoulders dressed in a dark jacket and legs clothed in brown as he stepped forward.

"So, finally I've found the right pharmacy," he said, his hands resting on top of the counter that also held the register, hair combed back behind his ears, looking like he'd actually tried to clean himself up.

She could barely speak. "You… you went looking for me?"

He nodded, tongue peaking out to run over the scar on his lip. "Mhmm. But it didn't take long, fortunately. It's funny," he said, leaning his head back, looking at the sign displaying the name of the pharmacy above the check out area, "I've been here quite a few times." His eyes focused back on her. "Never seen _you_ before."

"I just started working here, about five months ago," she said, her hands hidden behind the register so he wouldn't see how badly her hands were shaking.

_First he knows where you live, now he knows where you fucking _work_._

He didn't need to keep hearing her shallow, shaking voice to know how terrified she was. He watched as she swallowed past a lump in her throat, her wide eyes staring forward.

She watched as he smiled. "I didn't know you were fifty miles out of town."

She nodded. "Yeah… the money's just much better here. Much more opportunity," she said, voice lowering as she looked down to the cash register, mind blank from the shock of seeing him.

_Yet again, you've scared her into silence_. "I understand that."

Her eyes shifted to something behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Isaac standing in an aisle, leaning against a stand and watching as he spoke to the girl.

Another man now stood behind him, looking just slightly more presentable with his lack of scars. He wore black pants tucked into dark boots, a faded black sweater trailing up to his neck, to short, brown hair and blue eyes.

"Don't worry about him," he said quietly, her eyes drawn back to him. "He's a friend."

She again swallowed a lump in her throat. When she didn't speak, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the small ID card he'd carried with him tonight.

"I do need to have something filled, though," he said, arm unsurely extending out, handing the laminated object to her, tightness gripping his chest as she slowly took the card from his hand, his eyes falling to the ground.

Looking down to the photo on the card, she saw the same face of the man that stood in front of her, the only curves in his cheeks from the dimples she'd never seen under the makeup. Shaggy, dirty blonde hair, tan skin, freckles across his nose and beneath his eyes. Moving her thumb slowly across the card, small black letters forming the supposed name of whom he was.

"Jack?"

He raised his head. "Mhmm."

She looked back to the card. "Jack _White_?"

He pulled a corner of his mouth, lips curved into a somewhat frown. "Yep."

She couldn't help the laugh that shook her chest. "Like the musician?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm sure I'm older than he is, so on principal, he's like _me_." _She's smiling again… good._

"Jack White. Hah, you might as well be named Elvis. That's pretty hilarious."

"No more hilarious than I would say Lindsey is."

The smile faded from her face. He knew her name. She didn't understand why it seemed to come as such a shock to her… he'd been when she lived, had her car, found where she worked, why wouldn't he have figured it out her name?

He grinned, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "I heard your boss when she called you over here."

"_Man, this is the fifth place we've looked. You sure she works over here?"_

"_It's a few blocks down from where I picked her up. She got detoured over here, I'm trying to trail it backwards," he said, the bright floreuscent light reflecting off the tile floor as he and Isaac walked through the front of the store, picking an aisle to venture down until they'd come to the pharmacy area._

_Behind the counter was deserted, the drive thru empty, his eyes drawn to the clock above that window seeing the time, almost 11:30. A door to the right opened, an older woman dressed in a white lab coat above a floral print dress carrying several piles of paperwork under her arm. She shot a glance to him, smiling as she walked across the empty space between counter and window._

"_I'll have someone out right with you, sir," she said cheerfully, purposely overdoing her smile as he nodded back, the woman disappearing behind rows and rows of white labeled boxes._

_He leaned further past the counter, turning his head to see if he could find the girl any faster._

"_Hey, Lindsey!"_

"_Hey," he heard from a familiar voice, heart nearly slowing as he heard the older woman continue to speak._

_He jumped backwards, pushing Isaac backwards into the aisle they'd come from, inciting a few "Heys!" from him. When he was sure they were far enough back so she couldn't see them, he stopped._

"_We got lucky, this is the place," he said, a relieved smile on his face._

"_Shit, really? You see her?"_

"_No, I heard her voice. Her boss is calling her out to come to the register."_

"_Oh, nice. You think she'll really have your jacket?"_

_He grinned. "Why wouldn't she."_

Red was in her face again, hands rising to the keyboard in front of her and typing in his name, looking up and finding the prescription order. Scanning his ID through the machine to her right, she handed it back when it was verified as real, looking up the rest of the details on where the bottle of what he'd gotten filled had ended up. She turned around and crossed to the window side of the room, opening a drawer and finding the plastic package with his serial number labeled across it, bringing it back and placing it on the counter in front of her as she continued to type on the computer.

"Okay… that'll be, $5.65."

He nodded, hand digging into his pocket and removing a crumpled $10 bill. He handed it to her, fingers slowly pulling it from his hand, making eye contact as he grinned again.

"How was the night?"

She sighed, entering the code to open the cash register, putting the bill down as she collected his change. "Pretty good. It slows down a lot after nine or so," she said, fingers now digging up the coins she needed. "Yours?"

"Pretty much the same," he answered, hand extending out so she could drop the bills and change into his palm. "How's your leg?"

Keeping her eyes on the register, watching as the receipt for the purchase printed, she shook her head. "Why do you care?"

"Why wouldn't I care?"

She stared blankly at him, the receipt folding out from the small printer, brows starting to furrow. "Do I actually have to remind you? It hasn't been that long."

He shook his head. "No, but if I didn't give a shit I wouldn't be here, much less giving you my real embarrassing name for a prescription sedative."

She looked down at the plastic package she put on the counter, seeing the label of the bottle inside of it indeed an antidepressant with sedative qualities.

"You take these?" she asked.

He nodded. "So I can sleep."

She nodded as well. "I know the feeling."

"I know you must."

She pulled the receipt from the machine, placing it on top of the plastic bag. "Anything else?"

He grinned. "So professional." He picked up the bag from the counter. "I hope I might be able to get my jacket back. I promise I'll be out of your hair after that."

_Oh, shit_. "I have it here, actually."

He felt that grin stretch from ear to ear. "Did you wear it to work?"

She reluctantly nodded. "Sorry."

"Nah, that's cute," he said quietly, blinking as he tilted his head. "When are you off?"

"Why?"

"So I can get you some food that isn't nearly rotten soup. My apologies, I know you were hungry this morning."

She shook her head. "It's okay, you don't have to…"

"Never a matter of have for me, just want."

"I get out at like, three tonight. I'm sure you're got things to do."

He shot a look back to Isaac, who they both then saw was pressing various buttons on his cell phone, his attention completely distracted by the screen. He looked back to her.

"Told you, I'm lying low for awhile."

She shrugged. "I don't know… I can just give you the jacket back right now."

He shook his head. "Nahh, it'll be cold around three. You know how the marine layer is."

"Yeah… are you sure, though?"

He nodded. "Mhmm. I'll bring Isaac if it makes you feel any better."

"I meant giving back the jacket."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, you know how long it's been since I've apologized? Consider it a rare occasion. What, you don't eat?"

She sighed. "Man, I'm just trying not to get involved in any shit."

_Ahh, finally, she spilled it_. "Well, you might as well agree with me so I'll be off all these security cameras. Wouldn't want your boss to recognize the scars."

She stared blankly forward. "From far away, they look like burns."

He frowned. "As well. So, three?"

She sighed again, extending her arm out in a half shrug. "Yeah. Maybe three thirty."

He nodded. "Alright. I'll be in later."

He turned, holding the package close to his chest, turning towards Isaac before he heard her call out, "Wait." He looked back to her.

"How's your chest?" she asked, touching her hand to the spot on her chest she would've been wounded on had she taken the bullet.

He shrugged. "Sore," he answered.

"Yeah. I'll see you."

He grinned, nodding as he raised his palm to her, a small wave before he turned around, Isaac finally looking up from his phone and following him down the aisle, disappearing before she turned around, going back to the computer she'd been sitting at earlier, continuing to press her fingers to the keyboard. She sighed, eyes closing as she shook her head.

_Well, at least he won't come be coming back to the apartment._

**…**

Passing through an aisle of detergent before turning a corner and venturing into a card section, he wanted to leave the store as quickly as possible. He hadn't even been thinking of those security cameras before he mentioned it.

"Man, you were right," Isaac said, laughing as he followed at his side. "Nice catch. And a pharmacist, dude? She a freak or what?"

He laughed, the automatic door opening as the two stepped forward, exiting out into the warm aired summer night before the fog began to roll in. "Guess so, she hasn't told me to fuck off yet or anything."

"Yeah, guess that's why she didn't mind filling your script, she probably takes shit herself."

He shrugged, the two walking through the parking lot towards the black truck. "I doubt it, she's pretty high strung."

"Yeah, well, you'd have to be for that kind of job. We meeting up with her later?"

He nodded. "Had to pretty much beg her to."

"Ahh, that had to have sucked," Isaac replied, his key unlocking the car doors, the two sliding in and shutting the doors behind them. Isaac turned over the ignition, switching on the headlights of the car before putting the car in reverse.

"Nonetheless, she said yes. Around three."

He nodded, putting the car in drive and exiting the parking lot, trailing city streets to get to the freeway. Car nearly drowning in a sea of headlights as they merged onto the highway, they disappeared from any paranoia either might've been feeling about staying in the same area for too long, avoiding the fright of anyone having seen a ghost and calling it in.

* * *

again, ending here because if I don't stop now you'll end up getting a ridiculously massive chapter. Let me know how you're feeling on the story so far! There should be another update before the end of this week. -p.


End file.
